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I. — LOOKING  ABOUND. 
H. — A  LONG  LOOK  AHEAD. 

HI. I'VE  BEEN  THINNING. 

FV. TRUE  TO  THE  LAST. 

V. THE  STAB  AND  THE  CLOUD. 

VI. — HOW  COULD  HE  HELP  IT. 

VH. LIKE  AND  UNLIKE 

VHI. — TO  LOVE  AND  TO  BE  LOVED. 
IX. TIME  AND  TIDE. 

"  There  are  few  writers  of  the  present  day  who  excel  this  charming 

author  in  pure  simplicity  of  style,  and  natural  interest,  and 

truthfulness  of  narrative.     In  thousands  of  families 

his  books  are  read,  and  re-read  with  profit 

and  ever  increasing  delight." 

Copies  will  be  sent  by  mail/ree,  on  receipt  of  price  $1.60,  by 

Carleton,  Publisher, 
New  York. 


LOOKING    AROUND. 


BY 

A.  S.  ROE, 

AUTHOR   OF  "A  LONO  LOOK  AHEAD,"    I'VE  BEEN  THINKING,"   "  TRUH  TO  THE  LAST.' 

"THE  STAR   AND  THE    CLOUD,"     "HOW    COULD    HE  HELP  IT,"   "LIKE   AND 

UNLIKE,"   "TO  LOVE  AND  TO  BE  LOVED,"   "  TIME  AND  TIDE,  ETC." 


NEW  YORK: 

CARLETOJY,  PUBLISHER,  413  BROADWAY. 
1865. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1865,  by 

G.    W.    CARLETON, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


'PS 


LOOKING    AROUND. 


CHAPTER  I. 

»  • 

It  was  in  the  early  part  of  June,  in  the  year  18  — ,  on  a 
beautiful,  calm,  clear  night,  a  gentleman  was  walking 
down  Maiden  Lane  in  the  city  of  New  York,  towards  the 
East  River.  He  seemed  in  no  haste,  although  the  evening 
was  somewhat  advanced ;  for  as  he  passed  along  at  a 
steady,  measured  gait,  he  turned  his  gaze  towards  the 
windows  of  the  stores  not  yet  closed  on  either  side  of  the 
street,  and  sometimes  almost  paused  to  notice  the  manner 
in  which  the  clerks  of  those  establishments  that  were 
about  closing  for  the  night,  fixed  the  long  shutters  to 
their  windows,  and  swung  round  the  heavy  cross  bars  to 
secure  them  in  their  place.  He  was  evidently  a  stranger 
to  the  city,  or  an  occasional  visitor  there,  who  wished  to 
notice  the  maneuvers  of  this  mart  of  industry  and  wealth 
by  night  as  well  as  day. 

He  was  of  portly  size,  although  by  no  means  gross  in 
appearance,  well  formed,  and  well  dressed ;  and  the  as 
pect  of  his  countenance  calm  and  dignified,  and  as  a  fair 
view  of  it  could  be  had  occasionally  by  the  light  from 
some  window  in  which  the  lamps  yet  glared  brightly,  one 
who  might  be  passing  him  would  possibly  have -been 
struck  with  the  brightness  of  his  eye,  and  manly  pro 
portions  of  the  whole  face,  and  if  he  thought  of  the  mat 
ter  at  all,  would  have  said  to  himself,  "  a  Washington 
countenance,"  and  would  very  likely,  after  passing,  have 
turned  round  to  take  a  look  at  the  personel  and  his  bear 
ing. 


1608891    ' 


6  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

As  the  gentleman  reached  the  Old  Fly  Market  he  left 
the  side-walk  and  entered  it;  It  was  not  a  market  night, 
the  stalls  were  empty,  and  the  lamps  that  were  hung  oc 
casionally  through  its  whole  length,  showed  that  every 
thing  had  been  scraped  and  swept,  in  readiness  for  the 
morrow.  As  he  reached  the  middle  of  the  first 
market  he  suddenly  stopped,  and  fixed  his  gaze  intently 
upon  one  of  the  stalls.  It  was  not  open  as  most  of  the 
others,  but  enclosed  from  the  street  by  a  canvass  cloth, 
probably  an  awning  let  down  for  the  night,  to  secure  it 
from  the  effects  of  a  storm  when  its  owner  would  not  be 
there  to  haul  it  in.  It  served  now  however  the  purpose 
of  a  screen  from  the  street,  and  had  been  selected  by 
some  person,  homeless  no  doubt,  as  a  resting  place  for 
the  night.  If  the  gentleman  had  not  been  a  stranger  in 
the  city,  a  mere  glance  of  the  eye  would  probably  have 
been  all  the  notice  he  would  have  taken  of  the  circum 
stance,  as  it  would  be  no  unusual  sight  to  a  citizen  to  be 
hold  one  of  the  thousands,  who  have  no  permanent  abid 
ing  place,  taking  advantage  of  any  spot  that  might  afford 
some  little  protection  from  the  weather,  or  the  public  gaze 
to  secure  his  rest  for  the  night.  The  eye  of  the 
stranger  however,  unused  to  such  scenes,  was  riveted  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  he  deliberately  walked  up  to 
the  side  of  the  stall.  The  light  from  a  lamp  enabled  him 
to  notice  distinctly  the  appearance  of  the  person.  He 
was  a  youth  —  a  mere  boy  —  well  dressed  —  and  with  a 
prepossessing  countenance,  his  complexion  fair  and  deli 
cate,  his  eye  bright  and  his  other  features  well  formed, 
and  when,  as  the  gentleman  came  up,  the  boy  raised 
his  face  up  towards  him  and  smiled,  there  was  an  expres 
sion  of  beauty  not  often  see'n  in  one  of  his  sex.  He  was 
sitting  upon  the  block  of  the  stall,  with  his  back  leaned 
against  the  plank  partition  that  separated  the  stands,  a 
small  bundle  lay  beside  him,  and  his  cap  on  the  top  of 
it. 

As  the  youth  looked  up  at  the  gentleman  he  smiled,  and 
in  a  pleasant  voice  said, 

"  Good  evening,  sir." 

"  Good  evening,"  said  the  gentleman  in  reply,  and  for 
the  moment  said  nothing  further,  he  seemed  confounded 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  7 

at  the  apparition  be  had  so  unexpectedly  encountered. 
At  length,  in  a  mild  tone  of  voice  he  asked, 

"My  boy,  you  are  not  intending  to  pass  the  night 
here ! " 

"  I  should  like  to,  sir  if  you  have  no  objections,"  doubt 
less  thinking  the  gentleman  had  some  right  there,  or  was 
a  person  of  authority. 

"  I  have  no  right,"  the  gentleman  replied,  "  to  interfere 
with  your  purpose,  but  have  you  no  home  here  ?  " 

«  No  sir." 

"  No  friends  in  the  city  ?  " 

"  No  sir." 

"  Have  you  no  means  to  procure  lodgings  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  little  money  with  me,  but  thought  I  had  bet 
ter  keep  it,  as  I  may  need  it  for  other  things." 

After  deliberating  with  himself  a  few  moments,  again 
the  gentleman  said, 

*'I  do  not  like,  my  boy,  to  leave  you  here  alone  all 
night." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  am  not  afraid." 

"  Perhaps  nothing  may  harm  you,  but  there  are  rude 
people  around  at  night  in  such  a  large  city  as  this." 

"  I  don't  think  sir  they  would  hurt  me.  God  will 
take  care  of  me  will  he  not,  sir,  if  I  ask  him?  " 

The  face  of  the  gentleman  immediately  flushed,  he 
seemed  much  excited,  and  it  may  as  well  be  told  here,  he 
was  a  minister  of  the  gospel ;  and  one  who  not  only  exer 
cised  the  pastor's  office,  but  he  had  a  true  pastor's  heart ; 
here  was  evidently  a  lamb  of  the  flock,  and  how  could  he 
see  one  of  the  Saviour's  little  ones  thus  exposed,  and  pass 
on  and  leave  him?  He  would  sooner  have  spent  the 
night  on  that  stall  with  him. 

"I  cannot  bear  my  child,  to  pass  on  and  leave  you  here, 
are  you  not  willing  to  accompany  me  ?  I  can  provide 
you  a  better  place  than  this."  -^i' 

The  boy  looked  at  him  as  though  in  doubt  as  to  the  \ 
propriety  of  trusting  himself  with  a  perfect  stranger. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.     I  thank  you,  but  I  do  not  \ 
like  to  put  you  to  any  trouble." 

"  It  will  trouble  me  more  to  leave  you  here.  I  know  the 
city  perhaps  better  than  you  do,  it  would  really  be  a  relief 


8  LOOKING    AROUND. 

to  me  if  you  will  consent,  it  shall  cost  you  nothing,  should 
the  watchmen  see  you  here  they  might  insist  upon  taking 
you  to  the  watchhouse  and  there  you  would  be  obliged  to 
remain  through  the  night  with  all  sorts  of  company." 

"Do  you  think  so  sir?" 

« I  do  indeed." 

"  You  are  very  good  sir,  if  you  really  think  it  will  be 
best  and  that  I  shall  not  trouble  you,  I  will  go  with  you 
sir." 

"  Come  then,"  said  the  gentleman  taking  him  by  the 
hand. 

The  boy  caught  up  his  bundle  and  walking  beside  the 
stranger  they  emerged  from  the  market  and  going  a  few 
rods  down  Water  Street  ascended  the  steps  of  a  three 
story  house  ;  the  gentleman  rang  the  bell. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  opened  the  gentleman  said  to 
the  servant, 

"  Can  I  see  Mrs.  Ketchum  ?  " 

And  when  the  lady  entered  the  parlor  he  asked, 

"  Have  you  a  spare  room  for  the  night,  Mrs.  Ket 
chum?" 

"  I  have  not  Mr.  Ransom,  the  house  is  full,  just  now." 

"  Can  you  then  madam  make  up  a  bed  in  my  room  ?  on 
the  floor  will  answer." 

"  Oh  yes  sir,  you  want  it  for  this  boy  ?  " 

"  I  do  madam." 

"  It  shall  be  ready  in  a  few  minutes." 

And  very  soon  the  servant  entered  and  announced  that 
the  Rev'  Mr.  Ransom's  room  was  in  readiness. 

The  boy  turned  toward  the  Reverend  gentleman  a  look 
of  confidence  at  the  announcement  of  his  title  which  almost 
brought  a  smile  over  the  face  of  the  latter  and  he  was 
on  the  point  of  asking  "  is  your  father  a  minister  ?  "  but  he 
feared  it  might  lead  to  a  long  conference  in  explanation 
of  the  peculiarity  of  his  case  and  it  was  high  time  for 
the  youth  to  be  asleep,  he  was  evidently  tired,  this  was 
manifest  in  the  short  walk  they  had  just  taken  together, 
and  in  the  slight  limp  of  one  foot,  the  reason  for  which  he 
gave  was,  "that  his  shoe  had  galled  his  foot."  The  gen 
tleman  had  little  doubt  from  reflecting  on  the  matter 
that  there  was  some  mystery  about  the  boys  situation, 


LOOKING    AROUND.  9 

the  very  fact  that  he  was  so  reticent  of  his  speech,  so 
careful  of  what  he  said  and  somewhat  unwilling  to  be 
noticed  although  modified  by  polite  breeding  assured  him 
that  all  was  not  right,  and  yet  the  acknowledgement  of  his 
trust  in  God,  something  strange  for  one  so  young,  inspired 
the  confidence  that  there  must  be  good  as  well  as  evil  in 
the  case.  He  surmised  that  the  boy  had  walked  far  that 
day,  that  for  some  reason  he  was  thrown  upon  his  own 
resources,  he  was  so  careful  of  his  money  ;  he  was  not  one 
that  had  been  used  to  such  a  situation,  he  had  not  lab 
ored  as  a  boy  of  his  age  of  poor  pai-ents  would  have  done 
and  his  whole  appearance  and  manners  indicated  refine, 
ment  and  comfortable  circumstances  if  not  wealth  in 
those  under  whose  charge  he  had  been.  As  much  time 
would  no  doubt  be  required  to  sift  out  the  truth,  he 
therefore  concluded  to  let  the  boy  go  to  his  rest  as  soon 
as  possible  and  take  the  morning  for  explanations. 

Mr.  Ransom,  for  we  may  as  well  now  call  him  by  name, 
was  a  settled  clergyman  and  pastor  of  the  church  in 
Woodburn,  on  the  Hudson  River.  He  was  now  in  New 
York  partly  for  the  purpose  of  laying  in  his  supply  of 
family  stores  for  the  season,  as  he  could  procure  better 
articles  and  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  he  could  in  Woodburn 
or  its  vicinity,  and  for  the  further  reason  that  he  found  it 
profitable  occasionally,  to  exchange  the  quiet  routine  of 
the  country,  for  the  bustle  and  variety  of  a  large  city. 
He  liked  at  times  to  throw  himself  into  the  magnetic  whirl, 
and  catch  its  influence  and  feel  the  force  of  the  mighty 
current  of  earnest  life,  to  witness  the  gigantic  efforts  re 
quired  at  the  centre  of  power,  to  give  vigor  to  the  whole 
frame  work  of  our  social  system,  to  behold  untiring  in 
dustry  and  grasping  enterprise  in  the  very  midst  of  their 
work,  hanging  out  their  trophies  of  victory  on  every  side 
a  healthful  stimulus  to  the  busy,  toiling,  struggling  mass 
es.  He  felt  that  it  was  good  for  him  at  times  to  be 
where  every  step  was  quick  and  every  countenance  ani 
mated  with  the  eager  pursuit  of  some  supposed  good,  or  the 
speedy  accomplishment  of  some  grand  design.  He  wished 
to  put  himself  in  contact  with  the  bustle  of  the  city,  as  a 
counteracting  influence  against  the  drowsy  atmosphere 
I* 


10  LOOKING   AROUND. 

with  which  he  was  surrounded  in  the  quiet,  unruffled 
steady  movement  of  country  life. 

He  had  stayed  his  appointed  time,  and  was  about  to 
return  home ;  the  evening  had  been  spent  in  calls  upon 
some  friends  or  rather  acquaintance,  whom  he  did  not 
care  to  leave  without  recognition  ;  and  yet  upon  whose 
hospitality  he  did  not  wish  to  throw  himself  during  his 
stay,  he  wanted  to  feel  at  liberty  and  therefore  selected 
for  his  stopping  place,  when  there  without  the  company 
of  his  wife,  a  private  boarding  house  in  Water  Street, 
kept  by  a  lady  of  respectability  whom  he  had  known  for 
some  years. 

Having  completed  his  toilet  at  an  early  hour  the  next 
morning  the  boy  still  asleep,  he  sat  down  to  meditate 
upon  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed  in  refer 
ence  to  this  youth,  the  thought  of  leaving  him  to  be  ex 
posed  to  the  same  situation  in  which  he  had  found  him, 
was  too  painful  to  be  indulged  a  moment,  and  yet  what 
course  should  he  adopt?  Was  it  not  his  duty  to  remon 
strate  with  him  if  he  had  unadvisedly  left  his  home  and 
endeavor  to  persuade  him  to  return  ?  But  first  he 
must  try  to  learn  from  the  boy  himself  the  peculiarities 
of  his  situation.  As  the  little  sleeper  lay  in  profound 
repose  he  had  a  fair  opportunity  for  examining  his  fea 
tures,  they  were  a  model  for  a  sculptor's  eye,  his  hair  was 
not  so  light  as  he  had  imagined  when  he  first  saw  him  ; 
it  might  be  simply  called  brown  with  the  slightest  tinge  of 
auburn,  it  was  silky  like  a  girls,  and  disposed  to  cuiT,  his 
complexion  very  fair,  his  lips  finely  curved,  his  forehead 
broad  and  high  very  much  resembling  in  the  whole  con 
tour  of  the  countenance  the  pictures  whether  fanciful  or 
real  of  the  boy  Chatterton. 

As  the  gentleman  stood  over  him,  he  remembered  that 
the  sloop  in  which  he  expected  to  sail  for  home  that  day, 
started  at  an  early  hour,  he  must  wake  him,  however  un 
pleasant  to  his  feelings  to  disturb  the  sweet  sleep  he  was 
enjoying. 

Giving  him  a  slight  touch  the  boy  awoke. 

"  If  you  will  get  up  now  I  will  leave  you  for  a  few  min 
utes,  dress  as  quickly  as  you  can,  for  I  wish  to  have  some 
conversation  with  you." 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  11 

After  allowing  him  a  sufficient  time  to  dress,  Mr.  Ransom 
again  entered  the  room,  the  boy  was  sitting  by  the  win 
dow,  he  arose  as  Mr.  Ransom  entered  and  walking  to 
wards  him  put  out  his  hand  which  was  kindly  pressed, 
liis  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  and  his  utterance  broken. 

"  I  thank  you  sir  very  much,  for  your  kindness." 

Mr.  Ransom  felt  assured  that  his  surmise  in  regard  to 
the  youth  was  correct,  he  had  doubtless  in  a  childish  freak, 
left  his  home  as  boys  sometimes  are  tempted  to  do, 
possibly  from  reading  stories  of  young  adventurers  into 
the  wide  world,  little  knowing  the  terrible  meaning 
of  that  significant  phrase.  But  he  was  now  sensible  of 
his  error  and  would  no  doubt  be  easily  persuaded  to  return 

"  Sit  down  my  son,"  Mr.  Ranson  said,  "  and  I  will  take 
a  seat  by  the  side  of  you,  for  I  want  to  ask  you  a  few 
questions.  And  now  did  I  understand  you  rightly  the 
last  evening  that  you  had  no  home  nor  friends  in  the 
city." 

"  I  have  none  in  the  city  sir,  nor  any  where  else." 

This  reply  startled  Mr.  Ransom,  he  began  to  fear  that 
some  disease  had  affected  his  mind,  that  he  was  in  fact  de 
ranged,  he  would  question  further. 

"  But  you  must  have  a  home  somewhere !  " 

"  I  have  a  father's  house  sir,  but  it  is  no  home  to  me." 

"  Is  your  mother  living  ?  " 

He  put  his  hand  into  his  bosom,  and  drew  from  thence 
a  locket  miniature,  and  handing  it  to  Mr.  Ransom  said, 

"That  sir  is  all  I  have  left  of  her,  she  died  some  years 
ago." 

Mr.  Ransom  saw  that  it  represented  a  lady  of  great 
beauty,  and  with  every  mark  of  a  lovely  disposition  ;  and 
he  also  noticed  at  once  a  striking  resemblance  between  it, 
and  the  living  form  beside  him. 

"  Have  you  a  step  mother  ?  " 

"  I  have  sir,  and  she  has  driven  me  from  my  father's 
house." 

"  Have  you  brothers,  or  sisters  ?  " 

u  I  have  two  half  sisters  sir,  younger  than  I  am." 

"  Have  you  no  relatives,  on  your  mother's  side  ?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of  sir,  there  may  be  some  in  Eng 
land,  but  I  have  never  heard  of  them." 


12  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  Have  you  no  Uncles  or  Aiints  on  your  father's  side  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  my  father  was  an  only  child." 

Mr.  Ransom  paused  a  moment,  and  then  fixing  a  firm 
look  at  the  boy  asked, 

"  Does  your  father  know  of  your  leaving  home  ?  or  ra 
ther  did  he  consent  to  it  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  to  leave  it  sir." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  to  leave  it,  because  he  thought  it  best 
for  you,  under  the  circumstances  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  to  leave  it,  and  never  to  darken  his  doors 
again." 

"  You  must  have  done  something  very  wrong,  or  a 
father  could  never  have  thus  spoken  to  you." 

"  I  suppose  I  did  sir." 

Again  Mr.  Ransom  paused  as  though  in  doubt  how  to 
proceed,  the  boy  was  apparently  candid,  and  yet  seemed 
somewhat  reluctant  to'  say  more  than  he  could  help. 

"  My  object  in  asking  you  these  questions  my  boy,  is 
not  for  the  purpose  of  gratifying  my  own  curiosity,  I 
want  to  advise  you,  to  help  you,  and  I  cannot  do  that 
understandingly  without  knowing  all  the  circumstances  un 
der  which  you  have  left  your  home.  I  want  your  confi 
dence  not  for  any  benefit  it  will  be  to  me,  but  solely  for 
your  own  good." 

"  I  believe  that  sir." 

"  Can  you  not  then  tell  me  what  you  did  to  provoke 
your  father  to  wrath  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  what  I  said  to  my  mother,  but  sir," 
his  voice  trembled  as  he  continued.  "  I  could  not  hear 
my  own  mother's  name  lightly  spoken  of,  by  her  who 
now  fills  her  place.  I  would  sooner  die  sir  than  hear  it, 
if  it  had  been  a  man  sir,  I  would  have  struck  him,  if  he 
had  killed  me  afterwards."  , 

"  It  was  not  to  your  father  then  that  you  spoke  the 
words  that  caused  his  displeasure ;  perhaps  what  you  said 
was  told  to  him  in  a  more  aggravating  form  than  you  ac 
tually  used. 

"  That  may  have  been  sir,  no  doubt  it  was  told  in  the 
worst  way  possible ;  but  I  told  him  myself,  sir,  just  what  I 
did  say,  and  I  also  said, '  that  I  thought  he  ought  not  to  al 
low  my  mothers  name  to  be  scandalized,  and  that  I  could 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  13 

not  bear  it,  and  would  not  bear  it ;  that  I  would  leave  the 
house  if  the  words  were  ever  repeated  to  me  again,'  my 
mother  sir  was  an  angel,  and  I  know  she  is  in  heaven 
now." 

Here  his  wrought  up  feelings  caused  him  to  pause,  he 
made  no  ado,  but  his  face  flushed,  his.  full  lips  trembled, 
and  the  big  tears  rolled  from  his  dark  blue  eyes. 

Mr.  Ransom  began  now  to  see  how  matters  stood.  This 
boy  had  a  high  strung  temperament,  a  warm  and  loving 
heart,  his  father  no  doubt,  high  tempered  too,  and 
either  through  fear,  or  the  fascinating  arts  of  his  present 
companion  was  under  her  influence.  She  was  no  doubt, 
in  most  respects  the  opposite  of  her  who  had  been  his 
first  love.  There  are  many  such  cases,  and  some  judg 
ment  may  be  formed  of  the  man's  taste  and  character 
by  his  latest  choice.  When  there  has  been  true  affection 
in  the  first  bond,  it  can  never  again  be  satisfied  but  with 
the  nearest  likeness  to  the  lost  loved  one  ;  so  that  although 
the  same  individual,  may  not  be  his  companion  through 
life's  whole  journey,  yet  the  same  sweet  chords  will  thrill 
his  soul  along  his  varied  path,  which  first  awoke  the  pure 
sympathies  of  his  being.  Mr.  Ransom  therefore  formed 
the  opinion  that  the  father  was  either  a  heartless  man, 
who  had  probably  never  married  from  affection  at  all,  or 
that  his  last  choice  was  one  that  accorded  with  his  views 
and  feelings.  After  being  silent  a  few  moments,  at  length 
he  said, 

"  You  told  me  last  evening  that  you  were  not  in  fear 
of  any  danger,  for  '  God  would  take  care  of  you,'  you  feel 
then  that  you  are  so  sure  of  being  in  the  path  of  duty 
that  you  can  with  confidence  commit  yourself  to  his  keep 
ing?" 

"  I  cannot  say  sir.  I  hardly  know  whether  I  am  right 
or  wrong,  nor  what  I  am  to  do,  nor  where  to  go.  I  have 
no  friend  nor  protector,  and  when  I  was  in  the  market 
last  evening,  I  felt  so  lonely  that  I  could  not  help  crying 
to  God  to  take  care  of  me,  and  I  used  the  words  I  heard 
my  mother  use,  when  I  was  standing  beside  her  bed  when 
she  was  dying.  She  asked  God  to  take  care  of  me,  and 
then  looking  at  me  and  squeezing  my  hand  she  said.  "  Wil 
lie,  God  will  take  care  of  you." 


14  LOOKING   AROUND. 

"Your  name  then  is  Willie  ?  " 

"Yes  sir." 

"  Do  you  feel  willing  to  give  me  the  rest  of  it,  your 
surname  ?  " 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  replied, 

"  I  did  not  know  sir,  but  it  would  be  better  for  me  to 
change  my  name.  Do  you  think  it  would  be  wrong  sir  ? 
would  it  be  like  telling  an  untruth  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  insist  upon  your  giving  your  name  tome, 
but  whenever  you  are  asked,  and  think  best  to  respond  I 
should  by  all  means  give  your  true  name,  that  would  be 
right,  in  the  other  case  you  are  conscious  of  a  doubt  as  to 
its  propriety,  we  should  never  do  anything  that  our  con 
science  does  not  entirely  approve." 

"  My  name,  sir,  is  William  Randolph  Herbert.  I  thank 
you  sir  for  advising  me,  I  will  do  as  you  say." 

Mr.  Ransom  was  about  to  ask  him  the  name  of  the 
place  where  his  father  lived,  but  forbore,  lest  the  boy 
should  suspect  he  was  seeking  to  gratify  his  curiosity,  or 
to  take  advantage  of  his  confidence. 

"  And  now  William  have  you  any  objections  to  tell  me 
what  you  design  to  do  ?  what  are  your  plans  ?  how  are  you 
going  to  provide  for  yourself  ?  you  have  but  little  money 
with  you." 

"  I  have  thought  I  would  try  to  get  some  situation 
where  I  could  earn  my  board,  may  be  I  could  find  some 
place  in  a  store,  or  I  might  get  on  board  some  vessel  that 
was  going  to  sea,  they  take  boys  sometimes,  do  they  not 
sir  ?  " 

"  Yes,  boys  are  often  taken  on  board  of  vessels,  but  I 
wish  you  would  listen  favorably  to  a  proposal  I  have  to 
make  to  you.  It  seems  you  are  yet  undecided  as  to  what 
course  you  had  better  take,  or  what  employment  you 
wish  to  engage  in  for  life.  Now  1  am  about  to  return  to 
my  home,  and  must  depart  soon  after  breakfast.  I  shall 
feel  very  sad  to  go  away  and  leave  you  alone  in  the  city, 
in  your  present  condition.  It  is  my  wish  that  you  should 
go  with  me,  and  spend  some  days  at  my  home,  until  you 
have  time  to  think  over  matters,  and  conclude  as  to  the 
best  course  to  pursue.  You  will  there,  too,  meet  with  a 
lady  not  unlike  the  picture  you  have  shown  me,  and  I 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  15 

think  from  what  you  have  told  me  of  your  mother's  char 
acter,  you  may  find  some  resemblance  there  too,  you 
shall  come  back  to  the  city  when  you  think  best,  and  it 
shall  cost  you  nothing." 

Mr.  Ransom  saw,  before  he  had  concluded  this  address, 
that  the  boy  was  ready,  and  more  than  ready  to  accept 
his  offer,  that  is,  so  far  as  his  feelings  were  concerned,  and 
yet  when  he  had  concluded,  and  awaited  a  reply,  there 
was  no  answer  for  some  moments. 

"  You  are  very  kind  sir,"  at  length  he  said.  "  I  thank 
you  very  much,  may  I  ask  you  which  way  you  travel  in 
going  to  your  home  ?  " 

"  My  home  is  up  the  North  river,  at  Woodburn.  I 
shall  go  up  in  a  sloop,  you  have  no  objections  to  a  sail  ? 
I  am  a  clergyman,  and  of  course  you  may  know,  not  bur 
dened  with  wealth,  but  yet  abundantly  able  to  afford  the 
aid  I  offer  you." 

"  Oh  sir !  dear  sir.  I  will  go  with  you  joyfully,  but 
can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  I  am  willing  to  do  any 
kind  of  work." 

"  It  was  not  for  that,  William,  that  I  made  the  offer, 
and  yet  it  may  be  you  will  find  something  to  do.  We 
will  now  go  to  breakfast." 

"  Oh  sir,  I  have  some  crackers  in  my  pocket,  that  is  all 
I  shall  want,  I  thank  you  sir,  just  the  same." 

"  Yes,  but  my  boy,  it  will  not  be  best  to  make  your 
breakfast  of  crackers,  when  you  can  have  something  more 
substantial,  your  crackers  will  serve  you  for  a  lunch  on 
board  the  sloop,  you  will  find  the  salt  water  air  quite  a 
stimulus  to  your  appetite." 

Putting  his  hand  in  that  of  Mr.  Ransom's,  without  say 
ing  any  thing  further,  they  proceeded  to  the  breakfast  ta 
ble.  And  there  Mr.  Ransom  had  a  further  opportunity 
of  noticing  his  attention  to  the  little  proprieties  of  life, 
and  he  came  to  the  conclusion,  that  although  his  home 
might  have  had  its  deficiencies,  yet  in  it,  he  had  been  ac 
customed  to  the  courtesies  of  polite  life. 

The  more  Mr.  Ransom  saw  of  this  youth,  he  became 
convinced,  that  he  was  one  who  could  not  endure  severe 
treatment ;  he  had  strong  and  finely  attempered  feelings. 
Under  a  mother's  mild  and  loving  nurture,  he  would  be 


1 6  LOOKING  '  ABOUND. 

loving  and  obedient,  but  angry  passions  and  a  rebellious 
spirit  would  be  aroused,  by  the  stern  rebuke  and  violent 
assault  of  a  father.  Fathers  in  general  when  excited  by 
some  fault  or  delinquency  on  the  part  of  a  son,  and  use 
harsh  and  imperious  language,  and  utter  violent  threats, 
are  not  to  be  charged  with  want  of  affection  ;  their  severe 
manner  is  often  the  result  of  deep  interest  for  the  child 
they  are  reproving.  The  evil  lies  in  a  want  of  discrimi 
nation,  they  do  not  study  with  sufficient  care  the  peculiar 
characteristics  which  distinguish  their  children.  They 
would  have  their  sons  grow  up  in  their  own  likeness,  no 
doubt  at  the  same  time  wishing  that  they  may  improve 
upon  it,  and  become  wiser  and  better  and  more  distin- 

tuished  than  themselves.  And  when  they  behold  a  de- 
ciency  in  the  attainments  of  the  child  to  their  own,  at  a 
corresponding  age,  or  a  perverseness  of  will  which  they 
themselves  never  manifested,  or  a  distaste  for  such  pur 
suits  which  they  had  been  eager  to  engage  in,  discourag- 
rnent  comes  over  the  parent's  heart,  they  write  bitter 
things  against  the  delinquent,  their  passions  are  roused, 
they  use  harsh  terms  and  perhaps  endeavor  by  the  rod  to 
amend  deficiencies.  But  they  consider  not  that  each 
child  is  a  living  soul,  an  emanation  from  a  divine  Hand, 
and  as  such,  is  distinct  from  all  other  human  beings.  It 
may  indeed  bear  some  resemblance  to  its  earthly  parent, 
but  in  most  essential  particulars  stands  alone,  alone  in  its 
peculiar  attributes,  alone  in  its  yearnings,  its  hopes  and 
fears,  alone  in  its  accountability  to  its  great  Creator. 
There  is*  a  passage  in  Ezekiel,  which  parents  and  more 
especially  fathers  would  do  well  to  heed,  "  Behold  all 
souls  are  mine  saith  the  Lord.  As  the  soul  of  the  fa 
ther,  so  also  the  soul  of  the  son  is  mine."  If  this  truth 
could  be  well  instilled  into  every  father's  heart  with 
what  different  feelings  would  he  regard  the  little  one  sit 
ting  upon  his  knee,  and  the  youth  walking  by  his  side, 
under  God  a  guardian,  the  will  of  the  great  parent  to 
be  paramount  in  all  things. 

As  a  ride  of  some  miles  was  required  after  the  sloop 
reached  her  landing,  e'er  the  end  of  their  journey  could 
be  accomplished,  it  was  not  until  the  afternoon  of  the 
next  day,  that  the  carriage  which  had  brought  them  from 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  17 

the  landing  stopped  at  the  gate  of  the  parsonage,  a  lady 
stood  at  the  front  door  with  a  countenance  sparkling  with 
joy,  by  many  thought  very  comely,  but  to  the  eyes  of  one 
beautiful  beyond  all  others  of  her  sex. 

As  Mr.  Ransom  led  his  young  charge  through  the  front 
yard  up  to  the  house,  his  lovely  wife  fixed  her  eye  steadi 
ly  upon  him,  trying  no  doubt  to  call  to  mind  whom 
among  their  friends  or  acquaintance,  her  husband  had 
brought  with  him  to  their  home. 

"  1  believe,  my  dear  you  will  exert  your  memory  in 
rain  to  find  out  to  what  family  of  our  friends  this  young 
gentleman  belongs.  His  name  is  William  Randolph 
Herbert,  please  welcome  him  to  our  home,  for  at  present 
he  has  no  other." 

"  And  that,"  said  she,  "  I  will  do  with  good  will."  And 
taking  him  by  the  hand,  as  he  raised  his  fair  face  all  aglow 
with  emotion  up  towards  her,  she  saluted  him  as  she 
would  have  done  a  near  relative.  Aifected  by  the  kind 
ness  of  her  reception  the  boy  for  the  first  time  gave  full 
vent  to  a  flood  of  tears.  Mrs.  Ransom  still  holding  him 
by  the  hand,  led  him  into  the  snug  quiet  parlor,  now  fra 
grant  with  the  scent  of  early  flowers,  and  in  its  simplicity 
and  neatness,  more  charming  to  the  pastor's  heart,  than 
any  of  the  highly  ornamented  abodes  he  had  visited  in 
the  great  city. 

"  William,"  said  he  as  Mrs.  Ransom  left  the  room, "  you 
will  remember  I  said  that  possibly  you  might  find  a  simi 
larity  not  only  in  personal  appearance,  but  in  manners 
and  feeling,  to  the  dear  mother  you  have  lost,  was  I 
mistaken  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  you  was  right,  I  think  I  could  tell  her  every 
thing  I  feel." 

"  And  you  can  do  so  with  the  assurance  that  you  will 
be  dealt  with,  in  love  and  kindness." 


CHAPTER  II. 


As  William  seemed  very  anxious  to  repay  the  kindness 
of  his  benefactor  by  active  employment  in  his  service, 
Mr.  R.  gave  him  certain  labors  to  perform  in  the  garden, 
and  certain  chores  at  the  house  and  barn,  and  was  much 
pleased  to  observe,  how  regular  he  was  in  the  performance 
of  them,  and  how  much  thought  he  exercised,  in  reference 
to  matters  not  immediately  committed  to  him,  he  was  not 
careful  merely  to  finish  the  work  assigned,  but  seemed 
ambitious  to  show,  that  he  was  equal  to  more  than  was 
expected  of  him,  he  had,  never  before  been  accustomed  to 
labor  of  any  kind,  so  he  said,  and  it  was  no  doubt  true ; 
for  his  hands  were  very  soft  and  delicate,  more  like  those 
of  a  girl,  than  of  boys  in  general. 

It  pleased  Mr.  Ransom  greatly  to  perceive  such  a  manifest 
disposition  to  industry,  for  although  it  was  not  at  all  proba 
ble  the  work  he  was  doing  would  be  that  by  which  he  was 
eventually  to  obtain  his  living,  yet  the  habit  of  being 
usefully  employed  would  be  formed  and  that  for  a  youth 
is  a  great  point  gained,  for  industry  and  energy  are  the 
mighty  powers  that  ensure  sucess. 

He  soon  made  it  manifest  that  he  was  fond  of  horses,  a 
natural  trait  in  boys,  and  one  that  should  be  properly  en 
couraged  ;  he  was  therefore  allowed  every  opportunity  for 
horseback  exercise,  much  to  his  gratification ;  his  highest 
pleasure  however  was  to  drive  in  the  chaise  beside  Mrs. 
Ransom  either  in  visiting  friends  or  on  errands  to  the  store, 
dne  condition  however  being  attached  to  his  riding  on 
horseback  or  driving  in  the  chaise,  and  that  was  that  he 
must  take  upon  him,  the  grooming  of  the  horse  and  learn 
himself  to  saddle  or  harness  him,  this  Mr.  R.  insisted  upon, 
for  the  reason  that  ignorance  of  such  matters  often  puts 
men  to  great  inconvenience,  occasions  foolish  blunders  for 
which  they  are  subject  to  ridicule,  and  often  serious  ac 
cidents  and  loss  of  life.  A  man  who  cannot  harness  his 
own  horse  is  not  able  to  tell  whether  every  thing  pertain- 


LOOKING    AROUND.  19 

ing  to  his  gearing  is  as  it  should  be,  and  more  casualties 
occur  from  carelessness  in  that  matter  than  from  the  gaiety 
or  perverseness  of  the  beast. 

Having  examined  him  as  to  his  attainments  as  a  scholar, 
his  greatest  deficiency  appeared  in  writing  and  arithmetic, 
otherwise  for  his  age  he  had  made  respectable  progress. 
He  was  therefore  allowed  to  spend  several  hours  a  day  at 
these  exercises,  for  as  he  seemed  desirous  to  become  a 
merchant  in  preference  to  any  other  calling,  it  was  essential 
that  in  these  branches,  he  should  be  more  particularly 
perfected. 

But  the  great  question  continually  kept  forcing  itself  upon 
his  benefactor,  ought  he  to  keep  from  his  father  all  knowl 
edge  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  child  ?  The  opinion  he 
had  formed  of  the  character  of  the  parent,  did  indeed  offer 
some  justification  for  withholding  this  knowledge,  still 
lie  very  naturally  feared  he  might  have  formed  an  errone 
ous  opinion  ;  general  rules  for  making  up  a  judgment  in 
such  a  case  will  not  always  do  to  act  upon,  it  might  be 
that  his  father  was  as  he  had  concluded  a  man  of  strong 
passions,  yet  might  be  possessed  of  ardent  affection,  the 
mother-in-law,  he  must  think  was  a  person  of  coarse  man 
ners,  rude  in  speech,  and  with  but  little  feeling  at  heart ; 
but  there  must  have  been  refinement  somewhere,  or  this 
boy  would  not  be  likely  ^p  show  so  clearly  the  marks  of 
the  gentleman.  At  times  he  felt  almost  determined  to 
venture  the  responsibility  of  writing  to  the  father,  and 
making  a  full  revelation  of  the  case ;  and  then  the  dread 
of  unpleasant  consequences  to  the  youth  ;  and  the  break 
ing  up  of  his  present  profitable  course  would  for  the  time 
silence  all  other  consideration. 

Some  six  weeks  had  now  elapsed  when  one  day  his 
wife  said  to  him, 

"  Have  you  noticed  any  change  in  William  of  late  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  as  to  his  work  or  studies  ?  " 

"  No  he  seems  as  faithful  at  them  as  ever,  and  as  affec 
tionate  and  respectful,  but  I  have  fancied  at  times  there 
was  something  on  his  mind  that  makes,  him  feel  sad." 

"  Can  you  wonder  at  that  dear  Emma  ?  The  wonder 
to  me  is  that  he  has  maintained  such  a  quiet  cheerful 
manner.  Sad  indeed  must  the  poor  child  feel  when  he 
thinks  of  the  past." 


20  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  You  know  dear  husband  we  had  come  to  the  conclu 
sion,  that  his  father's  treatment  had  entirely  weaned  him 
from  all  regard  to  his  parent." 

"  Yes,  I  know  we  have,  and  I  felt  grieved  that  it  should 
be  so,  a  parent  is  a  very  solemn  relation,  and  one  that 
cannot  be  slighted  with  impunity  ;  it  is  the  one  thing  that  I 
fear  in  reference  to  the  boy,  it  may  prove  a  blight  upon 
his  whole  life." 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  he  begins  to  feel  that  he 
has  done  wrong,  and  is  in  consequence  unhappy.  I  have 
ascertained  some  things  from  conversation,  with  him,  that 
have  changed  my  opinion  of  the  character  of  his  father ; 
I  believe  the  child  loves  his  father  most  tenderly." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  that." 

"  I  cannot  remember  all  he  has  said,  but  I  have  drawn 
the  conclusion  that  the  boy  came  away  as  much  on  his 
fathers  account,  as  for  any  other  cause.  I  think  it  not  im 
probable  that  he  saw  that  his  being  at  home  was  a  source, 
of  trial  to  his  parent  from  the  dislike  of  the  step  mother 
it  may  have  been  that  the  poor  man  irritated  by  the 
heartlessness  of  his  wife,  and  perhaps  too  by  some 
thoughtless  and  hasty  expressions  of  the  boy  and  being 
doubtless  a  man  of  strong  passions,  has  spoken  unadvi 
sedly  at  the  moment,  and  may  be  in  great  distress, 
not  knowing  what  may  have  befallen  the  child  ;  I  think 
dear  husband  you  had  better  have  a  talk  with  William  on 
the  subject." 

This  advice  so  accorded  with  his  own  views  that  Mr. 
Ransom  embraced  the  first  opportunity  of  leisure  so  to 
do,  and  found  out  from  ,ihe  interview  with  him  some 
things  that  threw  new  light  upon  the  character  of  both 
father  and  son  ;j  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  detail  them 
here  but  he  came  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that  it  was 
his  bounden  duty  to  see  the  father.  Having  learned 
from  William  the  name  of  the  place  where  his  home  was 
situated,  he  remembered  that  the  pastor  of  the  congrega 
tion  to  which  William's  family  belonged  was  an  old  col 
lege  companion  ;  and  in  fact  one  with  whom  he  had  been 
on  very  intimate  terms  of  friendship,  but  their  spheres  of 
labor  had  only  brought  them  into  contact  occasionally  at 
the  meetings  of  general  assembly.  He  resolved  therefore 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  21 

to  make  a  visit  to  that  gentleman,  that  through  him  he 
might  ascertain  the  true  state  of  things,  and  with  his  ad 
vice  decide  as  to  his  future  course  in  the  matter.  At  first 
he  had  some  doubts  as  to  his  duty  in  revealing  to  Wil 
liam  the  object  of  his  journey,  but  finally  concluded  that 
as  it  might  be  of  the  last  importance  to  the  child,  that 
he  should  have  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  him  as  a 
friend,  it  would  be  better  to  tell  him  plainly  his  design,  so 
on  the  evening  previous  to  his  departure  he  called  him 
into  his  study. 

"  It  is  my  purpose  William,  as  you  ah'eady  know  to  leave 
home  on  the  morrow,  have  you  any  idea  of  the  object  I 
have  in  view  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  I  have  not  been  told,  nor  have  I  asked  any 
one." 

"  I  have  thought  much  of  your  situation  since  the  last 
conversation  we  had,  and  it  appears  to  me  best,  that  your 
father  should  no  longer  be  kept  in  ignorance  concerning 
you,  he  may  be  very  unhappy. 

"  I  am  afraid  he  is  sir,"  his  lip  trembled  and  the  tears 
were  gathering. 

"  You  have  no  objections  then  to  my  seeing  him,  and 
telling  him  how  you  are  situated?" 

"  Oh  !  no  sir,  but"  and  here  he  had  to  give  way  to  his 
feelings  which  were  intensely  excited.  Nothing  was  said 
for  some  time,  not  until  he  had  regained  in  some  measure 
his  natural  composm-e. 

"  There  seems  to  be  some  objection  occurring  to  your 
mind.  Now  iny  dear  boy  I  want  you  to  be  perfectly  free 
with  me,  and  candidly  confess  the  difficulty.  You  see 
I  have  dealt  openly  with  you,  and  told  you  what  no  one 
else  knows  but  Mrs.  Ransom,  as  to  my  object  in  leaving 
home,  and  thus  I  shall  always  deal  with  you,  and  shall 
hope  to  have  the  same  confidence  reposed  in  me." 

"Mr.  Ransom,"  he  said,  looking  fixedly  at  him,  his 
countenance  all  aglow  with  feeling,  "  I  do  want  you  to 
see  my  father,  and  to  tell  him  I  ask  his  forgiveness  for 
what  I  said  that  displeased  him,  that  I  am  willing,  if  he 
says  so  to  return  home  again,  and  suffer  as  I  have  done, 
but  Oh  !  sir,  if  you  can,  do  persuade  him  to  let  me  try 
and  learn  some  business.  I  do  not  want  to  be  idle,  I 


22  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

want  to  learn  to  take  care  of  myself,  and  to  take  care  of 
him.  1  will  work  all  my  life,  I  do  not  care  how  hard,  if 
I  can  only  earn  enough  to  enable  him  to  feel  that  he  is  not 
dependent  on  that  woman  for  daily  bread.  Oh,  sir,  I 
know  I  can  do  it." 

Mr.  Ransom  was  much  affected  by  this  appeal,  and  by 
what  was  said  at  its  close,  there  was  such  earnestness  in 
the  whole  manner  of  the  boy,  especially  when  he  brought 
out  that  fact  in  regard  to  his  father's  situation,  it  had 
doubtless  been  long  a  burden  and  grief  to  his  young  mind, 
one  that  he  dare  not  reveal  to  his  father,  and  of  which 
his  father  would  no  doubt,  if  possible,  not  be  willing  his 
child  should  know,  and  perhaps  supposed,  had  never  taken 
cognizance  of.  But  children  often  see  much  further  into 
such  matters  than  parents  are  apt  to  imagine,  and  it 
would  be  well  if  they  could  bear  this  in  mind,  and  re 
member  that  they  have  about  them  a  little  band  of  im 
mortal  intelligences,  observing  minutely,  pondering  scenes 
and  circumstances  and  drawing  conclusions,  which  may 
indeed  be  erroneous,  because  not  entrusted  with  the  pa 
rents  secrets,  but  which  are  exerting  an  influence  on  their 
future  life;  Here  was  a  new  feature  in  this  case  unfold 
ed  to  view,  that  Mr.  Ransom  had  not  imagined ;  in  some 
way  the  father  was  dependent  on  his  second  wife,  and 
doubtless  he  had  been  humiliated  by  it,  and  the  sgn 
had  noticed  it;  a  sore  spot  had  been  made  in  his  young 
heart,  embittering  his  life,  but  awaking  his  mind  to  ener 
getic  daring,  another  instance  of  the  double  acting  of 
Divine  Providence  ;  allowing  evil  for  wise  ends,  and  caus 
ing  it  to  result  in  good. 

His  benefactor  was  about  to  correct  him  for  using  the 
term  by  which  he  had  designated  his  mother-in-law,  but 
as  it  seemed  such  a  natural  outflow  of  the  indignation 
which  had  been  aroused  in  his  heart  by  the  remembrance 
of  scenes  he  had  witnessed,  and  as  his  usual  appellation 
had  been  respectful,  be  thought  until  he  should  know 
more  of  the  whole  case  he  would  refrain. 

As  it  occupied  a  whole  day  to  reach  New  York,  Mr. 
Ransom,  of  course,  remained  there  through  the  night, 
taking  the  Boston  mail  stage  which  left  Courtland  Street 
at  8  o'clock  the  next  morning ;  there  was  but  one  passen- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  23 

ger  besides  Himself  that  started  from  the  stage  house,  so 
they  sat  together  on  the  back  seat.  Befoi'e  the  former 
gentleman  got  in,  Mr.  Ransom  had  an  opportunity  to 
notice  his  appearance,  for  he  was  conversing  earnestly 
with  two  men  who  seemed  to  be  police  officers.  The 
gentleman  was  more  than  ordinarily  a  fine  looking  man, 
the  expression  of  his  countenance  bright  and  intelligent, 
his  eye  extremely  penetrating,  and  the  form  of  his  features 
regular,  and  handsomely  moulded.  As  he  entered  the 
coach  and  took  his  seal,  his  salutation  was  courteous  and 
his  whole  aspect  that  of  a  gentleman,  and  Mr.  Ransom 
felt  rather  pleased  to  have  such  a  seat  companion,  for  al 
though  he  only  anticipated  a  few  hours'  ride  with  him, 

the  town  of the  place  of  destination,  being  at  no 

great  distance  from  the  city,  yet  the  few  hours  might  be 
pleasantly  beguiled  in  converse  with  a  person  of  intelli 
gence  such  as  he  judged  the  gentleman  to  be.  As  the 
stage  passed  up  Broadway,  however,  the  stranger  kept 
his  head  constantly  in  the  direction  of  the  street  on  the 
side  of  which  he  sat  and  very  often  peering  through  the 
other  side,  as  though  earnestly  searching  for  some  person 
or  object ;  it  was  not  a  look  of  mere  curiosity  or  amuse 
ment,  for  his  countenance  manifested  deep  anxiety.  As 
the  gentleman  was  too  intent  upon  his  object,  whatever  it 
was,  to  seem  at  all  disposed  for  conversation,  the  two  rode 
on  in  silence  until  the  city  and  its  suburbs  were  passed, 
and  the  more  open  country  spread  around  on  either  side, 
he  then  settled  back  upon  his  seat,  heaved  a  deep  sigh, 
and  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand,  seemed  as  one  under 
the  power  of  extreme  dejection.  At  the  first  stopping 
place  two  other  passengers  entered,  rather  rude  looking 
men  as  to  their  exterior  although  their  behavior  was 
civil  and  becoming.  After  they  entered,  the  gentleman, 
perhaps  conscious  that  the  silence  between  him  and  his 
seatmate,  had  been  kept  up  quite  long  enough  to  be  really 
civil,  and  as  Mr.  Ransom  had  on  his  entering  the  stage, 
made  a  passing  remark,  to  show  that  he  was  ready  to  be 
social,  and  to  which  he  only  replied  to  by  a  bow  of  the 
head ;  the  other,  no  doubt,  concluded  that  it  was  his  place 
to  break  the  spell.  And  he  did  so  by  some  remark  that 
gave  food  for  conversation  until  the  end  of  their  journey 


*•/.  •*:*• 

24  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

together.  The  subject  turned  somewhat  upon  the  mys 
teries  of  Divine  Providence,  which  the  gentleman  frankly 
confessed  were  troubling  his  mind,  and  therefore,  Mr. 
Ransom,  in  the  best  way  he  could,  endeavored,  if  not  to 
satisfy  him,  at  least  to^soothe  and  reconcile  him  to  what 
then  might  be  incomprehensible.  And  he  had  the  satis 
faction  of  believing  that  his  efforts"  had  not  been  in  vain, 
for  when  he  left  the  stage,  the  gentleman  gave  him  his 
hand  at  parting  and  remarked  — 

"  I  am  sorry  sir  that  our  conversation  had  not  commen 
ced  at  an  earlier  period  of  our  ride,  but  I  trust  I  shall  not 
forget  some  views  you  have  advanced." 

Mr.  Ransom  landed  at  the  tavern,  and  getting  directions 
to  the  parsonage,  was  soon  receiving  a  hearty  welcome 

from  his  brother  minister,  the  Rev.  Thos.  G •  and  an 

agreeable  introduction  to  his  accomplished  and  excellent 
lady.  As  it  was  near  the  hour  for  dinner,  of  course  no 
revelation  was  made  of  the  object  of  his  visit,  until  the 

meal  was  finished,  when  Mr.  G invited  his  friend  to 

his  study,  for  the  purpose,  he  said,  "  of  having  a  good 
long  talk  over  scenes  in  our  college  life,"  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  seated,  he  remarked, 

"Brother  Ransom, "this  is  a  treat  I  have  not  expected, 
you  and  I  have  spent  some  happy  days  together,  little 
thinking  then  what  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  life 
would  be,  which  we  were  so  eager  to  take  upon  us." 

"  But  much  happier  with  those  cares  and  responsibili 
ties  than  we  were  in  those  days  of  lightheartedness." 

"  Yes,  yes,  true,  that  is  true,  and  yet  one  likes  to  take 
a  backward  view  sometimes,  when  the  placid  stream  bore 
us  along  so  gently  and  the  shores  were  so  verdant  and 
picturesque  and  the  sunshine  was  so  cheering,  and  all  na 
ture  in  fact  clothed  in  beauty." 

"  To  us  brother  G the  scene  you  describe  has  not 

ended  in  disappointment,  the  stream  has  not  launched  us 
into  a  dark  and  troubled  sea,  where  our  poor  barque  has 
much  ado  to  bear  up  against  the  raging  billows." 

"  I  tell  you  one  thing,  Brother  Ransom,  which  I  most 
firmly  believe,  that  more  than  half  the  fatalities  attending 
the  voyage  of  life  is  owing  to  the  unfortunate  selection 
of  our  companions  on  the  way  j  or  to  drop  the  figure,  full 


"*fc- 

LOOKING   ABOUND.  25 

half  if  not  three  quarters  of  a  man's  happiness  and  pros 
perity  here,  depend  upon  what  sort  of  a  wife  he  has  got. 
Now  I  know  cases  where  men  who  bid  fair  for  usefulness 
as  Christians  and  as  members  of  society  in  general,  be 
come  nonentities,  positively  lost  to  all  goodness,  by  con 
nection  with  a  weak,  vain  and  unscrupulous  woman  ;  and  I 
have  known  a  man  of  fine  intelligence,  pure  minded  and 
high  minded,  of  refined  feelings  and  with  a  large  capaci 
ty  for  the  enjoyment  of  life,  crushed  to  the  earth,  his  sensi 
bilities  blunted,  his  high  manly  spirit  brought  down  al 
most  to  abject  meanness,  and  every  avenue  to  his  earthly 
happiness  closed  up,  by  a  most  unfoitunate  connection 
with  a  low  minded,  avaricious  woman,  whose  power  over 
him  is  extreme,  because  unhappily  she  holds  the  purse." 

"  Plave  you  any  such  case  among  your  own  people  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  just  such  a  case,  and  my  heart  bleeds  for  him 
whenever  I  see  him  or  think  of  him.  He  is  now  suffer 
ing  under  a  terrible  calamity,  brought  upon  him,  I  am 
free  to  say,  by  the  very  cause  I  have  alluded  to." 

"  It  is  not  idle  curiosity,  Brother  G ,  that  prompts 

me  to  ask  you  the  name  of  that  individual ;  if  I  mistake 
not  he  is  the  very  person  on  whose  account  you  are  in 
debted  for  this  visit,  for  although  I  have  often  designed 
to  call  upon  you,  yet,  as  you  well  know,  our  spheres  of 
duty  make  such  constant  demands  upon  our  time,  that  it 
is  no  easy  matter  to  whirl  ourselves  out  of  them." 

Mr.  G looked  at  his  friend  with  great  earnestness 

while  he  was  speaking,  and  was  silent  for  a  moment  after 
he  had  finished. 

"  My  dear  Brother  Ransom,  it  would  be  in  common  ca 
ses,  as  you  well  know,  an  ungracious  thing  for  a  pastor,  after 
illustrating  a  proposition  by  reference  to  a  living  example, 
and  in  such  a  case  as  this,  where  I  have  used  strong  lan 
guage  in  describing  the  situation  of  things,  to  expose  the 
name  of  the  individual  referred  to,  but  as  I  know  that 
you  have  full  as  nice  ideas  of  pastoral  propriety  as  myself, 
and  will  take  proper  care  of  the  information,  I  shall  cer 
tainly  not  fear  to  answer  your  question." 

"  Let  me  help  you  out  of  that  difficulty,"  Mr.  Ransom 
quickly  said,  "it  is  not  necessary  that  I  know  to  whom 
2 


26  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

you  referred.  But  have  yoil  a  person  a  member  of  your 
congregation  by  the  name  of  Herbert  ?  " 

"  I  have,  do  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,  has  he  lost  a  son  lately  ?  " 

"  He  has,  and  terrible  is  the  trial  he  is  suffering  on 
that  account.  Oh,  brother  Ransom,  can  you  give  me  any 
information  about  the  child  ?  is  he  alive  or  dead  ?  " 

"  He  is  alive  and  well,  at  least  he  was  yesterday  morn 
ing  when  I  left  home." 

"  He  is  not  at  your  home  !  " 

"  Yes  he  is  there,  well  and  happy ;  at  least,  as  happy  as 
he  can  well  be  under  his  peculiar  circumstances." 

"  How  did  he  ever  find  his  way  to  you  ?  " 

"I  found  him,  and  learning  some  particulars  from  the 
child  ventured  to  take  him  to  my  home." 

And  then  in  brief,  Mr.  Ransom  related  the  circumstan 
ces  which  the  reader  already  knows.  Just  then  Mrs.  G — — 
opened  the  door  and  smiling  pleasantly  upon  them  said, 

"  Any  secrets  ?  " 

"  None  my  dear,"  replied  her  husband,  "  but  what  you 
may  hear, — come  in  by  all  means.  What  do  you  think? 
the  lost  lamb  has  been  found,  and  he  is  an  inmate  of 
this  dear  brother's  family." 

"  William  Herbert  at  your  home,  Mr.  Ransom  !  •  Oh, 
how  rejoiced  I  am.  But  his  poor  father,  does  he  know 
it?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"Then,  dear  husband,  you  ought  to  go  there  at  once  ; 
no  time  should  be  lost  in  relieving  his  mind  ;  he  has  suf 
fered  so  much  that  I  fear  he  will  yet  lose  his  reason." 

"But  first,  Brother  G ,may  I  ask  you  to  give  me  a 

sketch  of  this  gentleman  and  of  the  peculiarities  of  his 
situation,  for  although  I  wish  to  see  him  and  to  have  his 
mind  relieved,  yet  that  I  may  know  how  to  deal  with  this 
case,  it  is  highly  necessary  that  I  know  all  the  circum- 
tances." 

"Then  Mrs.  G will  be  the  one  to  do  it,  as  she  is 

more  able  to  give  full  information  than  I  am.  She  has 
known  him  from  her  childhood." 

And  without  hesitation  the  lady  at  once  proceeded 
with  the  narrative. 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  »      27 

"  When  I  was  a  little  girl,  Randolph  Herbert  was  a 
young  man,  and  one  that  was  thought  much  ol  by  all 
classes  of  people.  He  was  the  only  son  of  a  gentleman 
who  was  supposed  to  be  wealthy,  and  no  doubt  was  so 
at  one  time,  but  in  some  way  he  lost  a  great  deal  of  proper 
ty,  for  at  his  death  the  estate  was  found  to  be  much  in 
volved,  and  when  settled  up  the  son  had  merely  the 
homestead  left,  with  a  moderate  sized  farm  attached  to  it, 
and  possibly  a  few  thousands  at  interest.  Randolph  had 
not  been  trained  to  any  business,  he  had  been  through 
college,  but  had  learned  no  profession,  perhaps  he  may 
have  spent  some  time  in  a  lawyers  office,  and  I  believe  I 
remember  hearing  at  one  time  that  he  was  studying  law, 
but  he  could  not  have  pursued  the  study  very  far  he  never 
attempted  to  practice  it.  At  any  rate,  his  time  was  mostly 
occupied  in  attending  to  his  father's  affairs,  for  the  old 
gentleman  in  the  latter  part  of  his  life  was  feeble,  and  sel 
dom  went  abroad  ;  and  no  doubt  that  was  the  reason  why 
the  son  remained  at  home  during  those  years  when  most 
young  men  are  learning  their  life  business. 

At  twenty-five  he  was  remarkable  for  his  fine  looks  and 
for  his  sprightly  and  pleasing  manners.  He  had,  and  he  has 
now,  a  proud  bearing,  but  all  who  knew  him  then  and 
know  him  now,  lay  no  such  charge  against  him.  He  was 
very  high  spirited,  but  I  do  not  believe  he  felt  himself 
above  any  decent  person.  I  think  he  must  have  been 
thirty  when  his  father  died,  and  in  two  or  three  years  af 
ter  that  event,  he  became  acquainted  with  a  young  Eng 
lish  lady  at  Boston,  who  having  come  to  this  country  with 
her  father,  who  died  and  left  her  dependent,  she  became 
a  teacher  of  music,  and  when  Randolph  was  introduced 
to  her  was  supporting  herself  by  that  means  ;  he  was  at 
once  attracted  by  her  appearance,  she  was  very  hand 
some,  and  moreover,  had  a  most  affectionate  heart,  and  a 
bright  mind.  He  became  warmly  attached,  and  gaining 
her  consent  they  were  married,  and  he  brought  her  home. 
William  was  their  only  child,  to  whom  the  parents  were 
devotedly  attached,  as  well  as  to  each  other.  The  son 
must  have  been  seven  years  old  when  his  mother  died, 
and  the  death  took  place  at  a  time  when  the  father  had 
gotten  into  some  pecuniary  difficulties ;  for  I  remember 


28  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

that  but  a  few  days  after  the  funeral,  their  place  was  sold 
with  all  the  furniture.  Mr.  Herbert  with  his  little  son 
went  to  board  in  the  outskirts  of  our  town,  and  very  near 
to  the  house  where  he  boarded,  there  lived  a  wealthy  fam 
ily  originally  from  New  Jersey,  and  of  Dutch  descent. 
They  were  called  wealthy,  but  they  lived  in  a  very  plain 
way  ;  they  had  an  only  daughter,  quite  good  looking,  but 
of  a  weak  mind,  with  a  very  slight  education,  and  no 
qualities  that  were  likely  to  attract  such  a  man  as  Mr. 
Herbert,  but  probably  finding  himself  poor  and  with  no 
knowledge  of  any  business  or  profession  whereby  he  could 
gain  a  livelihood,  he  was  on  that  account  induced  to  pay 
court  to  Annie  Schmidt,  and  he  succeeded.  The  parents 
were  not  pleased,  but  as  there  was  no  help  for  it  they 
seemed  to  acquiesce.  A  place  was  purchased  for  them, 
and  a  sum  of  money  settled  upon  the  daughter.  And 
when  married  they  removed  to  it  and  there  they  live  now. 
But  Mr.  Herbert  found  that  after  all  he  was  none  the  bet 
ter  off  for  having  married  a  rich  wife.  The  house  and 
lands  were  in  her  name,  and  to  be  solely  at  her  disposal, 
and  if  she  had  heirs  they  were  to  inherit  at  the  death  of 
their  mother  —  if  she  died  without  heirs  the  property  was 
to  go  immediately  to  a  family  of  her  relatives  ;  the  money 
settled  upon  her  was  placed  in  the  hands  of  trustees,  who 
were  bound  to  pay  the  interest  to  her  and  to  her  alone. 
This  in  most  cases  would  have  been  of  no  consequence 
at  all ;  any  wife  who  deserves  the  name  would  have  hand 
ed  it  at  once  to  her  husband,  but  the  lady  was  an  excep 
tion,  and  I  do  believe  a  very  rare  exception.  She  chose 
to  expend  it  for  the  family  at  her  own  will,  perhaps  at 
first  giving  her  husband  a  pittance  out  of  it,  but  by  de 
grees  even  withholding  that,  and  compelling  a  proud  spir 
ited  man  to  ask  her  even  for  money  to  purchase  the  most 
trifling  article  of  dress. 

"  Stop,  my  dear  madam,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Ransom  in  a 
hurried  manner.  "  I  do  not  need  to  know  any  more  of  this 
sad  story.  I  comprehend  the  whole  case.  A  man  of  any 
spirit  under  such  circumstances  must  be  in  a  constant 
ferment,  and  his  temper  liable  to  great  outbreaks.  I  can 
now  undersand  how  it  was  that  the  boy  chafed  beyond 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  29 

endurance  hurled  back  upon  the  false  mother  terms  of 
reproach,  and  the  father,  irritated  beyond  endurance, 
spoke  harshly  and  unadvisedly  to  his  poor,  suffering 
son." 

"  To  us,  Brother  Ransom,  who  understood  the  circum 
stances,  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  boy  ran  away,  but 
most  people  in  our  town  know  nothing  of  the  cause, 
nor  have  any  of  them  a  suspicion  that  Mr.  Herbert  is  held 
under  such  bondage  by  his  wife  ;  to  me  alone,  and  to  Mrs. 

G has  he  confided  his  secret  heart  trials,  and  we 

know  how  to  feel  for  him." 

"And  to  make  allowances  for  him." 

"  That  is  true.  No  doubt  many  think  he  leads  an  idle 
kind  of  a  life  for  a  man  of  his  abilities,  and  he  does ;  but 
how  is  he  now  to  help  himself?  He  was  to  blame  no 
doubt,  or  his  father  was,  that  he  did  not  learn  some  use 
ful  calling.  He  committed  a  great  error  no  doubt  in  mar 
rying  a  woman  so  unfitted  to  be  his  companion,  and  one 
so  unlike  what  he  had  once  loved,  but  our  errors  bring 
our  judgments.  If  we  could  go  through  life  without  mis 
takes,  life  would  be  much  smoother  with  most  people 
than  it  is.  But  had  we  not  better  send  for  Herbert  ?  " 

"  To  come  here !  in  preference  to  our  going  to  him  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  G -,  on  many  accounts,  and 

especially  for  his  sake,  he  may  not  wish  it  known  that  his 
child  has  been  found,  for  if  a  place  could  be  procured  for 
him,  I  do  think  it  would  be  better  that  William  never 
saw  his  home  again." 

It  was  therefore  concluded  that  Mr.  G should  send 

a  line  to  Mr.  Herbert  informing  him  that  a  gentleman  was 
there,  desirous  of  seeing  him,  and  it  was  also  thought  best 
that  Mr.  Ransom  should  break  the  news  to  him  of  his 
son's  welfare." 

It  was  about  the  space  of  half  an  hour  before  the  gen 
tleman  arrived,  and  Mr.  G came  up  with  him  into  the 

study  where  his  friend  was  in  waiting.  To  the  great  sur 
prise  of  both  the  gentlemen,  and  to  Mr.  G himself, 

who  introduced  them  to  each  other  —  they  had  been  stage 
companions  from  the  city  that  very  day  —  Mr.  Herbert 
was  the  first  to  speak. 

u  I  did  not  anticipate  this  pleasure,  my  dear  sir,"  em- 


30  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

bracing  the  hand  of  Mr.  Ransom,  warmly ;  "  some  things 
which  you  dropped  in  conversation  have  done  much  to 
soothe  mf  mind,  which  for  some  time  has  been  in  a  very 
disturbed  state.  I  see  now,  sir,  that  God  may  still  be  a 
loving  father,  while  obliged  to  lay  his  chastening  hand 
upon  us,  nor  is  it  necessary  for  us  always  to  suppose  He 
is  angry  with  us  because  we  are  suffering  under  his  rod." 

"  And  especially  so  if  we  find  the  chastisement  work 
ing  in  us  submission  to  the  divine  will.  God  mingles 
judgments  and  mercies  in  His  dealings  with  us,  and  by 
both  he  tests  our  obedience.  You  say,  my  dear  sir,  that 
for  some  time  your  mind  has  been  in  a  very  disturbed 
state.  I  am  a  messenger  of  good  tidings  to  you.  Your 
little  son  is  safe  and  well." 

The  gentleman  gazed  at  Mr.  Ransom  a  moment  as  if  he 
scarcely  comprehended  what  was  said,  and  then  clasping 
his  hand  exclaimed : 

"  Oh  God,  I  am  a  sinful  man !  unworthy  of  this  great 
mercy !  Oh  sir,  you  are  indeed  a  messenger  of  good  ti 
dings;  you  cannot  know  the  agony  which  has  wrung  my 
spirit  night  and-day,  for  it  was  not  merely  the  terrible 
suffering  on  account  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  child's  fate 
—  oh,  sir,  it  was  something  worse,  far  more  poignant  than 
that.  I  was  at  the  time  almost  crazed  by  other  trials  of 
a  personal  nature,  and  the  poor  boy  was  deeply  aroused, 
himself;  he  spoke  abruptly  to  me,  and  I  answered  him  in 
an  angry  and  heartless  manner.  Oh,  how  heartless  and 
unlike  a  parent  I  acted  !  My  dear  sir,  you  say  he  is  safe 
and  well  —  you  know  then  where  he  is  ?  " 

"  He  is  at  my  own  home,  sir." 

"  At  your  home !  Oh  how  merciful !  how  did  he  find 
his  way  there  ?  God  has  indeed  taken  care  of  him." 

"It  was  that  same  expression,  uttered  in  all  the  confi 
dence  of  a  child  in  an  Almighty  protector,  which  deter 
mined  me  not  to  leave  him.  I  felt  that  he  was  a  lamb  of 
the  flock,  and  my  heart  yearned  over  him.  He  did  not 
find  his  way  to  me,  but  God  directed  my  steps  to  him ;  I 
found  him  about  to  rest  for  the  night,  in  a  place  where  I 
feared  he  might  probably  meet  with  rude  treatment  from 
thoughtless  boys  or  men,  and  said  to  him,  'are  you  not 
afraid  to  trust  yourself  in  such  a  public  place  through  the 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  31 

night.'  '  No,  sir,'  he  replied,  looking  at  me  quite  earnest 
ly,  '  God  will  take  care  of  me.' " 

Here  the  father's  feelings  became  too  powerful  to  be  re 
strained.  He  first  covered  his  face  and  gave  full  vent  to 
tears,  sobbing  under  the  agony  of  grief,  and  then  arose 
and  paced  the  room,  his  hands  folded  on  his  breast,  ex 
claiming,  "  Oh  my  boy,  my  darling  boy  ;  my  Willie  !  you 
felt  that  your  earthly  parent  had  deserted  you  —  had. 
turned  you  off — had  cast  you  upon  the  cold  wide  world  ! 
but  blessed  be  God,  you  were  able  to  repose  on  a  Father 
who  never  changes ;  who  never  slumbers  nor  sleeps." 

It  was  some  time  before  he  could  compose  himself  suf 
ficiently  to  resume  his  seat.  Mr.  Ransom  did  not  attempt 
to  allay  the  storm  of  sorrow  that  was  raging  in  the  poor 
man's  breast,  for  he  believed  it  would  be  better  for  him  to 
bear  awhile  the  stings  of  remorse  ;  there  is  no  way  some 
times  but  for  man  to  suffer  the  bitter  consequences  of  his 
deeds,  and  often  the  surer  way  to  give  true  relief,  is  to 
hold  up  before  the  transgressor  in  vivid  colors,  the  hein- 
ousness  of  his  offence  ;  that  his  spirit  may  be  truly  hum 
bled,  and  prepared  for  that  contrition  of  heart,  which  is  a 
token  of  forgiveness  and  the  harbinger  of  peace.  But  Mr. 
Ransom  had  not  taken  upon  himself  the  part  of  a  censor 
or  reprover,  he  merely  designed  to.  give  as  clear  a  state 
ment  as  possible,  of  the  scene  that  transpired  at  the  find 
ing  of  his  son.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Herbert's  feelings  had  be 
come  somewhat  relieved,  the  suffering  man  resumed : 

"  Oh,  sir,  the  way  of  transgressors  is  hard ;  I  am  a  great 
a  grievous  sinner.  I  have  departed  from  the  Lord  —  I 
have  broken  my  covenant  with  God  —  his  frown  is  upon 
me  —  it  dries  up  my  spirit,  it  throws  darkness  on  every 
avenue  of  my  life  ;  it  has  blasted  my  hopes,  frustrated  my 
plans,  bound  me  in  fetters  galling  to  my  spirit ;  I  cannot 
break  them,  and  I  have  no  patience  to  endure  them ;  it 
sometimes  seems  to  me  that  hell  has  already  begun  its  tor 
ments, —  a  foretaste  of  the  coming  wrath." 

"  Please  stop,  my  dear  sir,  listen  to  me  one  moment ; 
you  forget  what  you  said  to  me  a  short  time  since  —  the 
result  of  our  converse  this  morning  as  we  rode  together 
—  the  Father  loves  still,  even  while  he  lays  the  rod  upon 
us.  I  know  not  wherein  you  have  transgressed,  nor  how 


32  LOOKING   AROUND. 

far  you  may  have  wandered  from,  the  path  of  duty,  nor 
do  I  care  to  know ;  it  is  quite  sufficient  that  your  own 
conscience  takes  cognizance  thereof;  you  have  probably 
not  gone  to  greater  lengths  in  sin  than  David  did,  nor 
acted  quite  so  base  a  part  as  Peter ;  you  have  not  denied 
your  master  with  an  oath." 

"  No  sir,  but  I  have  virtually  denied  him ;  I  have  de 
spised  —  no  I  dare  not  say  that  either,  I  hope  I  have  not 
in  my  heart  despised  the  ordinances  of  religion ;  but  I 
have  forsaken  the  table  of  the  Lord  ;  broken  my  covenant 
with  God  and  with  his  church.  Oh  sir,  the  way  of  trans 
gressors  is  hard  !  the  judgments  of  the  Lord  are  heavy, 
very  heavy,  hard  to  be  borne." 

"  But  can  you  not  say, '  they  are  true  and  righteous  al 
together  ? '" ' 

"  Yes  sir,  I  know  they  are  true  and  righteous,  true  and 
righteous  altogether;  I  most  truly  merit  every  stroke  he 
lays  upon  me.  I  know  that  it  is  my  sin  that  has  found  me 
out,  the  misfortunes  of  my  life  are  not  what  some  would 
call  mischances,  or  bad  luck.  Oh,  no  sir,  could  I  believe 
that,  I  might  harden  my  mind  against  them,  and  bid  fate 
do  its  worst.  But  I  know  that  I  am  smitten  for  my  sins. 
God  has  undertaken  against  me,  every  path  I  have  taken 
has  led  me  in  the  way  of  His  arrows ;  every  plan,  no 
matter  how  fair  its  prospects,  has  proved  a  failure,  until  I 
seem  caught  in  a  net,  where  no  effort  I  can  make,  gives 
any  hope  of  deliverance.  I  feel  very  sure,  sir,  that  my 
temporal  trials  are  the  issues  of  my  spiritual  obliquities. 
Oh,  sir,  to  feel  that  the  heaven  above  you  is  brass,  and  the 
earth  beneath  you  iron ;  because  God  is  against  you  — 
there  is  the  heart  of  the  agony.  It  seems  to  me  now  that 
if  I  could  have  one  glimpse  of  a  smile  from  God  —  could 
feel  that  my  backslidings  would  be  remembered  no  more 
—  and  that  my  Father  in  heaven  was  at  peace  with  me  — 
the  trials  of  my  life  would  be  light  as  air.  Oh,  sir,  if  the 
rod  be  necessary,  I  willingly  bare  my  back  to  the  stroke, 
only  could  I  know  the  hand  of  a  loving  Father  held  it." 

"  And  my  dear  sir,  do  you  not  know  that  ?  " 

"I  know  that  God  is -love,  but  the  great  thing  is  to 
know  that  He  loves  me  ;  oh,  I  have  grieved  him  so  ! " 

"  Still  you  pant  for  the  light  of  his  countenance  ?  " 


LOOKING   ABOUND.    „  33 

"  I  believe  I  do,  sir,  as  much  as  any  poor  chased  deer 
panteth  for  the  water  brooks." 

"  I  can  assure  you,  then,  my  clear  sir,  there  can  be  no 
stronger  token  that  your  Heavenly  Father  is  not  to  you 
an  avenging  God  — you  do  not  fear  His  stroke,  so  much 
you  fear  his  frown." 

"  Oh,  no  sir,  I  know  I  do  not." 

"I  might,  my  dear  sir,  go  on  and  bring  before  you  a 
multitude  of  passages  from  scripture,  to  prove  that  my 
assertion  is  correct,  and  if  you  were  a  novice  in  such  mat 
ters,  I  should  feel  it  my  duty  to  do  it  now,  but  the  Bible 
is  before  you,  and  I  feel  assured  you  are  not  unacquainted 
with  its  contents.  I  refer  you  to  it,  therefore,  with  the 
fullest  confidence  that  you  will  find  this  doctrine  clearly 
revealed,  ''the  spirit  of  repentance  is  the  token  of  forgive 
ness?  " 

For  a  while  Mr.  Herbert  made  no  reply,  he  was  evi 
dently  pondering  the  truths  which  had  been  unfolded  for 
his  comfort,  and  from  appearances  a  happy  effect  was  be 
ing  produced  in  allaying  the  turmoil  of  his  spirit ;  his 
countenance  assumed  by  degrees  a  more  composed  aspect, 
and  his  nervous  restlessness  gave  way,  and  he  sat  like  one 
whose  whole  being  had  been  touched  with  the  soothing, 
healing  hand  of  humility ;  at  length,  turning  toward  Mr. 
Ransom,  in  a  voice  somewhat  broken,  but  soft  and  tender, 
he  said, 

"  I  have  much  to  thank  you  for,  my  dear  sir,  and  do 
most  heartily  bless  God  for  the  instrumentality  He  has 
seen  fit  to  use  in  this  my  extremity  of  suffering ;  you  have 
been  indeed  a  messenger  from  heaven  to  me  and  mine, 
and  now,  my  dear  sir,  I  must  take  measures  for  relieving 
you  of  the  burden  you  have  so  generously  taken  upon 
you,  and  at  least  compensate  you  for  the  expense  you  have 
incurred  in  your  deed  of  love.  You  think  that  Willie  is 
ready  to  return  home  ?  " 

"  He  told  me  to  say  to  you,  that  he  heartily  asked  your 
forgiveness  for  any  impropriety  in  his  language,  and  if  you 
insisted  upon  it,  he  would  return  at  once  ;  but  he  begged 
me  at  the  same  time  to  use  my  influence  to  persuade  you 
to  permit  him  to  remain  where  he  is,  until  such  time  as  he 
can  be  fitted  for  a  situation  in  a  store ;  his  mind  is  inclin- 
2* 


34  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

ed  that  way,  and  he  seems  intensely  ambitious  to  take 
care  of  himself,  and  I  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  encourage 
that  feeling ;  half  the  battle  of  life  is  won  when  that  spir 
it  possesses  man  or  boy." 

«  You  are  right  there,  sir.  Oh  that  I  could  gratify  the 
dear  boy,  and  comply  with  his  request,  it  would  be  the 
highest  wish  9f  my  heart,  but  my  dear  sir,  I  must  not  hide 
from  you  my  situation.  I  am  in  reality  a  poor  man,  al 
though  surrounded  with  apparent  means.  I  cannot  pay 
the  charges  which  would  be  necessarily  incurred  by  the 
plan  he  proposes.  Two  years  at  least  must  pass,  before 
he  would  be  old  enough  to  be  of  such  service  as  would 
be  equal  to  his  board." 

"  If  that  is  all  the  difficulty,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  soon  got 
over ;  he  would  remain  with  me,  until  a  situation  could 
be  obtained  for  him." 

"  That  would  certainly  meet  my  views,  I  could  wish 
him  under  no  better  care  ;  but  the  obstacle,  my  dear  sir, 
is  insurmountable  —  it  is  not  in  my  power  to  pay  for  his 
board.  If  it  could  be  done  by  personal  sacrifice  on  my  part, 
I  should  not  hesitate  a  moment ;  but  I  see  no  way  to  do 
it." 

"  Well,  sir,  perhaps  you  think  my  interposition  in  be 
half  of  your  dear  child,  and  my  care  for  him  thus  far,  en 
title  me  to  the  privilege  of  asking  a  favor  from  you." 
"  Any  thing  in  my  power  to  grant." 
"  Then,  sir,  I  ask  in  behalf  of  myself  and  my  dear  wife, 
who  has  become  equally  with  myself  attached  to  the  boy, 
that  you  allow  him  to  remain  with  us,  free  of  any  charge 
to  you;  his  education  preparatory  to  a  mercantile  life, 
shall  be  attended  to,  and  I  doubt  not  my  influence  with 
friends  in  the  city,  will  enable  him  at  a  suitable  age  to 
procure  a  proper  situation." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  how  can  I  do  this  ?  knowing  as  I 
do,  that  gentlemen  of  your  calling  are  in  most  cases  paid 
only  enough  for  a  bare  subsistence;  it  would  be  injustice 
to  your  own  family ;  your  generous  feelings  I  cannot  thus 
impose  upon." 

"  Set  your  mind  perfectly  at  rest  on  that  point,  Mr. 
Herbert ;  I  am  not  rich,  neither  am  I  very  poor.  I  have 
hitherto  by  prudent  care  in  such  matters,  been  enabled 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  35 

not  only  to  live  comfortably,  but  to  keep  something  in  re 
serve  for  an  emergency.  I  have  never  yet  been  strait 
ened  for  the  want  of  means  to  supply  the  necessaries  and 
real  comforts  of  life,  and  I  never  allow  my  generosity  to 
go  ahead  of  my  ability ;  but  aside  from  this,  sir,  your  lit 
tle  son  will  not  be  so  dependent  as  you'  may  imagine  ;  in 
many  ways  his  great  desire  to  be  useful,  and  to  prepare 
himself  for  the  struggle  with  life,  enables  him  to  be  of 
real  service,  and  as  I  have  said,  1  encourage  that  spirit 
in  him,  because  I  look  upon  it  as  the  germ  of  future  suc 
cess  ;  the  ambition  of  the  boy,  becomes  the  energy  and 
determination  of  the  man." 

"  Oh,  sir,  can  all  this  be  so !  and  has  my  Willie  been 
thus  taken  from  my  hands,  and  the  little  castaway  been  led 
by  the  hand  of  his  Heavenly  Father  to  the  care  of  those 
much  better  fitted  to  make  him  happy  and  useful !  His 
young  heart  has  not  trusted  God  in  vain.  Oh,  sii-,  keep 
him  if  you  say  so,  and  may  your  guidance  direct  him  into 
a  happier  path  than  his  poor  father  has  taken." 

"  But  that  path,  my  dear  sir,  is  not,  I  trust,  to  be  so  dark 
as  it  has  been ;  hereafter  I  hope  there  will  be  brighter 
hues  tinging  its  edges.  '  When  He  giveth  peace  who  can 
make  trouble  then  ?  '  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

As  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ransom  will  have  more  or  less  to  do, 
in  many  of  the  scenes  in  this  story,  the  reader  may  very 
naturally  desire  to  know  something  more  about  him  per 
sonally. 

When  the  Rev.  Robert  Ransom  was  called  to  settle 
over  the  parish  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Woodbum, 
N.  Y.,  he  was  a  little  past  thirty-three  years  of  age,  and 
had  been  by  some  thought  rather  dilatory  in  taking  hold 
of  his  life  work  ;  he  had  been  studying  for  the  purpose  of 
preaching  the  gospel  —  they  said  he  had  been  a  long  time 


36  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

doing  that,  much  longer  than  young  men  in  general ;  why 
then  should  there  be  further  delay  after  his  course  of  study 
was  through,  when  ministers  of  the  gospel  were  so  much 
needed  ! "  But  Robert  Ransom  had  formed  the  idea,  that 
preaching  the  gospel  in  our  day,  and  among  a  people  al 
ready  believers  in  its  main  facts,  needed  something  more 
by  way  of  qualification  for  the  work,  than  a  smattering 
knowledge  of  the  outlines  of  theology,  and  having  that 
idea  fixed  in  his  mind,  he  went  steadily  on  with  the  plans 
he  had  laid  out,  listening  to  the  advice  of  companions 
and  friends,  but  giving  the  same  reply  to  all. 

"  I  look  upon  the  ministry  as  my  life  business,  and  feel 
that  the  time  spent  in  laying  the  foundation,  and  in  being 
suitably  prepared  for  my  work,  will  enable  me  to  accom 
plish  more  in  a  given  number  of  years,  than  I  could  pos 
sibly  do,  by  being  obliged  to  learn  some  of  the  principal 
duties  of  my  calling  after  my  settlement ;  if  I  begin  weak 
I  should  probably  go  hobbling  all  the  way  through,  ray 
labors  a  drudgery  to  myself,  and  not  very  profitable  to 
others." 

"  But,"  they  reply,  "  here  you  are  now  twenty-eight  or 
twenty-nine  years  of  age;  you  have  completed  your 
course,  and  are  licensed  to  preach.  Sinners  are  dying 
around  —  the  church  needs  your  help  —  many  societies 
are  vacant  —  you  can  easily  get  a  call  —  the  best  of  your 
days  are  passing  away." 

"  I  agree  to  all  you  have  said,  as  true,"  he  answered, 
except  the  last  idea.  I  think  the  best  of  my  days  for  use 
fulness,  will  be  those  in  which,  as  a  master  workman  who 
needeth  not  to  be  ashamed,  I  shall  be  employed  in  car 
rying  out  plans  of  usefulness  which  have  been  laid  before 
hand.  If  I  am  to  be  at  the  head  of  a  people,  I  want  to 
be  able  to  lead  them,  to  command  their  respect,  not  only 
for  my  station,  but  for  my  knowledge.  If  I  am  to  write 
sermons,  I  want  to  have  my  mind  so  accustomed  to  ana 
lyze  and  unfold,  and  illustrate  a  subject,  that  I  shall  not 
feel  my  weekly  duty  a  task,  but  rather  a  pleasure  ;  and 
besides  all  this,  I  want  to  learn  a  little  more  than  I  now 
know  about  mankind  and  the  world  in  general.  I  must 
get  a  little  common  sense,  to  carry  Avith  me  into  the  pul- 
pit,  and  among  the  people  of  my  charge,  if  I  mean  to  do 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  37 

them  any  good,  or  prevent  myself  from  becoming  a  sub 
ject  of  criticism,  and  even  ridicule." 

And  Robert  Ransom  persisted  in  carrying  out  his  plan, 
as  preparatory  to  his  final  settlement.  He  had  begun 
quite  early  to  teach,  and  had  by  means  thereof  paid  his 
way  through ;  his  course  at  college  and  in  the  seminary 
was  protracted  beyond  that  of  his  compeers,  many  of 
whom  were  not  only  through  with  their  studies,  but  marri 
ed  and  settled,  and  through  with  their  labors  among  the  first 
people  of  their  charge,  and  on  their  travels  to  hunt  up 
some  other  sheperdless  flock.  Teaching  he  found  profit 
able  in  more  ways  than  one ;  it  enabled  him  to  become 
more  thoroughly  and  practically  acquainted  with  the  clas 
sics,  and  other  branches  of  knowledge  which  he  had  pur 
sued  at  college ;  it  also  assisted  him  in  learning  how  to 
gain  access  to  the  minds  of  youth,  and  the  best  way  of 
gaining  their  confidence  and  respect ;  and  finally  it  en 
abled  him  to  live  independently,  and  to  lay  by  something 
every  year,  so  that  by  the  time  he  had  reached  his  thirty- 
third  year,  he  owed  no  man  any  thing,  and  had  one  thou 
sand  dollars  at  interest.  Now  this  he  had  acomplished 
by  industry  and  prudence  in  a  legitimate  way,  and  while 
at  the  same  time  pursuing  such  a  course  of  reading  and 
study  that  few  men  of  his  own  age,  could  make  them 
selves  more  engaging  in  conversation  on  general  topics, 
or  in  unfolding  and  elucidating  the  word  of  God.  He 
was  not  possessed  of  genius  or  brilliant  talents,  yet  his 
mind  had  a  freedom  and  elasticity  that  all  who  came  in 
contact  with  him  felt  and  acknowledged.  He  had  become 
a  power  in  the  world,  perhaps  not  destined  to  exert  an  ex 
tended  influence  ;  that  he  left  to  God,  but  no  matter  how 
small,  or  how  extended  the  field  of  labor  to  which  he 
might  be  called  ;  he  would  be  felt  as  a  master  spirit  equal 
to  his  position,  a  real  pillar  to  the  church,  a  true  guide  and 
a  firm  support  to  those  over  whom  he  might  be  placed  in 
charge. 

His  personal  appearance  was  rather  commanding  —  of 
full  ordinary  stature,  with  a  pleasing  countenance  although 
that  had  some  marks  of  sternness,  just  enough  to  warn 
those  who  might  be  disposed  to  trifle  with  him,  or  the 
cause  he  advocated,  that  there  might  be  some  danger  in 


38  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

so  doing ;  his  manners  were  courteous,  without  any  of 
that  fawning  politeness  which  too  many  ministers  of  the 
gospel  manifest,  as  though  they  felt  it  a  great  privilege  to 
be  allowed  to  exist  at  all,  and  as  if  they  must  be  very 
careful  to  offend  no  one,  lest  umbrage  might  be  taken,  and 
the  good  will  of  those  they  depended  on  for  a  support  be 
lost,  and  then  what  should  they  do  !  Mr.  Ransom  loved 
his  work,  and  went  straight  forward  in  the  plan  laid  out 
by  him  for  doing  it,  without  stopping  to  ask  whether  this 
or  that  course  would  be  agreeable,  or  whether  his  people 
would  bear  such  and  such  a  strain  upon  their  sensibilities. 
He  had  used  his  commou  sense  in  mingling  with  man 
kind,  and  was  wise  erjough  to  know,  that  a  good  doctrine 
may  be  so  constantly  and  strenuously  insisted  on,  as  to 
pall  upon  the  ears  of  even  the  best  of  people,  and  that  to 
accomplish  the  end  of  preaching,  he  must  get  hold  of  the 
heart,  which  could  not  in  most  cases  be  effected  by  mere 
declamation,  no  matter  how  forcible  the  voice,  nor  how 
repeated  the  dogmatic  utterance.  In  fact  he  judged  his 
audienc"e  by  himself;  if  his  own  heart  deeply  sympathiz 
ed  in  the  subject,  and  guided  his  thoughts  and  his  pen,  if 
the  words  he  uttered  stirred  the  depths  of  his  own  soul, 
he  believed  they  would  not  fall  upon  the  ears  of  others, 
like  the  jingle  of  an  old  song  that  has  lost  its  power  —  a 
weariness  or  a  lullaby. 

Mr.  Ransom  was  in  his.  thirty-third  year  when  he  re 
ceived  his  call  to  the  church  at  Woodburn ;  he  was  not 
looking  for  a  place,  but  as  he  had  for  a  year  past  been  em 
ployed  almost  every  Sabbath  in  supplying  vacant  pulpits, 
while  having  the  charge  of  a  large  school,  it  happened 
that  on  several  occasions,  he  had  preached  at  Woodburn, 
and  on  each  successive  occasion  won  more  and  more  the 
confidence  and  interest  of  the  people,  until  at  length  he 
was  waited  upon  by  a  committee  of  the  session,  with  the 
report  of  a  unanimous  call. 

Having  made  up  his  mind  that  so  far  as  he  could  him 
self  judge,  the  time  had  come  when  he  could  with  some 
assurance  take  upon  him  the  responsibility  of  a  pastor's 
duties,  he  of  course  was  ready  to  hear  the  proposals. 

"  Mr.  Ransom,  perhaps  as  you  know  we  are  not  a  weal 
thy  people,"  this  was  said  by  one  of  the  committee. 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  39 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  that  matter,  sir,  nor  can  I  well  ^ 
see  what  bearing  the  question  has  upon  the  subject  before 
us." 

"  Oh,  well  sir,  so  far  as  this,  you  may  think  the  salary 
smair,  and  so  it  is,  but  sir,  although  we  are  in  general  a 
plain  people,  in  fair  moderate  circumstances,  yet  there  are 
some  few  pretty  wealthy  folks,  and  as  they  have  tak«n  a 
notion  to  you,  we  have  no  doubt  they  would  subscribe 
quite  liberally,  that  is  one  side  of  the  salary ;  and  no  doubt 
you  would  receive  some  pretty  handsome  presents,  in  the 
course  of  the  year,  so  that  take  it  altogether,  perhaps  you 
would  find  as  good  pay  for  your  services  here,  as  in  most 
places  in  the  country." 

Here  it  was  that  Mr.  Ransom  was  enabled  to  bring  his 
practical  acquaintance  with  mankind  to  bear  happily  on 
his  own  mind  ;  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  be  offended 
by  the  suggestions  of  the  gentleman.  The  idea  he  knew 
was  a  very  general  one,  that  the  pulpit  was  sought  as  a 
means  of  livelihood,  too  much  occasion  was  constantly 
given  for  such  an  opinion,  he  therefore,  without  taking 
special  notice  of  the  insinuation,  replied, 

"  In  reference  to  salary,  sir,  I  leave  that  to  be  determin 
ed  by  the  ability  of  the  society,  and  through  its  regular 
organization.  I  have  not  been  in  the  habit  of  depending 
on  charitable  donations,  and  do  not  intend  placing  myselt 
in  such  a  position  if,  by  any  possibility  it  can  be  avoided. 
I  presume  the  amount  raised  for  the  support  of  religious 
ordinances,  is  done  in  the  usual  way  either  by  a  tax  or  the 
rent  of  the  pews." 

"  For  some  years  it  has  been  by  a  tax  on  the  pews." 

"  And  I  presume  you  wish  your  minister  to  have  a  de 
cent  support,  so  that  his  mind  may  not  be  harassed  by 
the  cares  of  life." 

"  That,  I  am  pretty  sure,  is  the  wish  of  our  people,  but 
somehow  or  other,  sir,  our  salary  does  not  seem  to  answer 
that  end,  and  we  have  had  in  general  every  two  or  three 
years,  to  go  round  with  a  paper  and  collect  quite  a  sum 
that  way,  and  sometimes  we  get  up  some  kind  of  a  party 
—  a  donation  party,  or  some  such  thing  —  for  you  see  the 
pastor  had  run  up  some  bills  at  the  stores,  and  he  had  no 
means  to  meet  them,  and  that  you  know  was  bad,  but 


40  LOOKING   AROUND. 

this  plan  don't  always  answer;  people  get  dissatisfied, 
and  many  of  them  who  are  the  most  able  decline  giving 
anything  ;  they  say,  that  considering  there  is  a  parsonage, 
a  decent  house  and  a  few  acres  of  land,  enough  to  keep  a 
horse  and  cow  the  year  round,  with  a  salary  of  seven  hun 
dred  dollars  a  year,  and  perquisites  occasionally,  a  minis 
ter  ought  to  live  comfortably." 

"  But,  sir,"  chimed  in  the  other  officer  who  had  hither 
to  been  silent,  "  I  believe  there  is  such  a  feeling  in  favor 
of  Mr.  Ransom,  that  several  of  our  able  men  will  be  will 
ing  to  put  their  names  down  for  quite  a  sum,  so  as  to 
make  the  salary  all  right,  if  that  should  be  in  the  way  of 
the  reverend  gentleman's  acceptance." 

"  I  would  merely  say,  gentlemen,"  replied  Mr.  Ransom, 
"  you  are  giving  yoiirselves  unnecessary  trouble  in  refer 
ence  to  the  raising  of  money ;  my  determination  to  settle 
here  as  your  pastor,  will  be  influenced  by  other  consider 
ations  entirely.  I  am  not  willing  to  decide  upon  o\ir  short 
acquaintance  that  it  is  my  duty  to  accept  your  invitation, 
but  I  will  engage  to  remain  with  you  one  year,  and  if  at 
the  end  of  that  term,  the  people  shall  be  desirous  that  I 
should  be  permanently  settled,  and  I  shall  have  a  fair 
prospect  for  usefulness  here,  then  our  connection  may  be 
consummated,  and  as  you  say  seven  hundred  dollars  is 
the  sum  raised  in  the  regular  way  as  salary,  it  will  be 
more  than  I  shall  need  for  the  coming  year,  two  thirds  of 
that  sum  will  be  quite  sufficient." 

As  no  objections  could  be  made  to  such  a  proposal,  the 
matter  was  soon  settled. 

The  next  thing  to  be  arranged  was,  as  to  his  place  of 
residence  ;  he  was  unmarried,  and  although  engaged,  both 
he  and  the  young  lady  preferred  putting  of  the  nuptials 
until  he  should  be  permanently  located.  Many  families 
among  the  people  were  quite  anxious  to  receive  him  as  a 
member,  but  he  preferred  at  once  to  take  possession  of 
the  parsonage,  and  all  the  aid  he  asked,  was  that  a  suita 
ble  person  should  be  found  to  take  charge  of  household 
matters,  and  a  young  man  to  attend  to  such  out  door  work 
as  the  place  required. 

It  was  somewhat  of  a  disappointment  to  those  of  the 
congregation,  who  would  have  been  willing  to  receive  the 


LOOKING   AROUND  41 

young  minister  under  their  roof,  as  a  member  of  their  fam 
ily,  for  the  sake  of  the  influence  they  might  acquire  over 
him,  and  the  opportunity  of  giving  him  advice,  and  warn 
ing  him  against  placing  too  much  confidence  in  certain  in 
dividuals,  and  unfolding  to  him  generally  the  personal 
characteristics  of  those  over  whom  he  was  to  be  placed. 
But  Mr.  Ransom  was  not  so  young  as  to  be  caught  in  that 
trap;  he  wanted  no  information  about  his  people  that  he 
could  not  obtain  through  his  knowledge  of  human  nature 
in  general.  He  determined  to  go  in  and  out  among  them 
free  from  all  partiality  or  bias.  His  sole  object  being  to 
strengthen  the  faith  of  true  believers  and  quicken  them 
to  diligence  in  their  path  to  heaven,  and  to  win  the  im 
penitent  to  the  Saviour ;  he  wished  for  no  knowledge  of 
their  peculiarities,  but  such  as  he  could  ascertain  by  inter 
course  with  them. 

All  along  through  the  year  the  house  and  its  premises, 
by  a  very  gradual  process,  kept  putting  on  a  more  finish 
ed  and  agreeable  aspect.  Every  thing  was  straightened 
and  repaired,  and  without  ado  and  at  trifling  cost ;  it  must 
have  been,  for  all  was  done  without  any  call  upon  the 
people. 

"  It  looks,"  said  one  of  the  people  to  Mr.  Bellows,  one 
of  the  leading  men  of  the  session,  "  as  though  our  young 
minister  means  to  make  a  life  stay  of  it ;  he  is  getting 
things  into  better  shape  than  they  have  ever  been  in  my 
day." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true,  friend  Ross,  and  to  my  mind  things 
are  getting  into  better  shape  among  us  in  every  way." 

"  But  what  does  it  mean,  Mr  Bellows,  that  he  is  so  in 
timate  with  the  Episcopals  ?  he  and  Mr.  Janeway  seem  to 
be  as  much  together  as  if  they  had  been  old  college 
friends." 

"  Oh,  I  guess  there  will  no  harm  come  of  it ;  it  may  be 
as  you  say,  that  they  were  old  college  friends.  I  guess  he 
will  be  careful." 

This  last  sentence  expressed  what  had  been  a  general 
sentiment  among  the  people  of  both  denominations,  to 
their  shame,  be  it  said.  They  each  felt  a  shyness  of  the 
other.  There  was  no  open  hostility,  but  a  distrust,  which 
separated  them  as  Christians,  and  even  tended  very  mate- 


42  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

rially  to  interfere  and  prevent  social  intercourse.  They 
never  visited  each  other's  place  of  worship,  preferring  even 
to  remain  at  home  on  the  sabbath  if  their  own  pulpit  was 
not  supplied,  rather  than  engaging  in  prayer  and  praise 
with  those  who  merely  differed  as  to  forms  of  worship. 

Now  Mr.  Ransom,  in  looking  around  at  the  condition 
of  things,  noticed  this  circumstance,  and  without  making 
it  a  subject  of  remark,  resolved,  as  he  considered  it  an  er 
ror,  to  use  his  influence  in  having  it  corrected. 

According  to  custom  it  belonged  to  Mr.  Janeway  to 
make  the  first  call,  as  he  was  already  a  resident  of  the 
place  when  Mr.  Ransom  took  up  his  abode  there  ;  and  no 
doubt  he  would  have  done  so 'at  an  early  day  had  he  not 
been  restrained  by  influences  which  had  great  power  with 
a  sensitive  mind.  The  reverend  gentleman  had,  during 
the  period  in  which  the  Presbyterian  parish  was  without 
a  settled  pastor,  taken  the  liberty  occasionally  of  calling 
upon  some  of  the  sick  belonging  to  that  denomination, 
none  particularly,  but  who  happened  to  reside  neaif  to  his 
home.  He  called  rather  as  a  neighbor  than  as  a  minister, 
but  by  some  of  the  sick  he  was  requested  to  have  prayer 
by  their  bedside,  and  that,  with  his  Christian  converse  at 
the  time,  tended  to  draw  the  hearts,  not  only  of  the  af 
flicted  persons  themselves,  but  of  their  families  towards 
the  good  man  ;  and  it  was  taken  notice  of  by  some  of  the 
leading  members  of  the  Presbyterian  order,  that  it  had 
become  quite  a  common  occurrence  for  families  living  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  Episcopal  church,  to  step  in  there  and 
worship  on  the  sabbath  when  the  weather  was  not  so  fa 
vorable  for  a  walk  or  ride  to  a  distance  ;  and  to  the  shame 
of  poor  human  jiature  it  must  be  told  that  this  circum 
stance  quite  stirred  up  the  minds  of  some  more  zealous 
for  Presbyterianism  than  for  a  catholic  spirit,  and  they  did 
not  hesitate  to  charge  Mr.  Janeway  and  his  people,  too, 
"  with  a  desire  to  proselyte  and  to  win  unto  their  '  godless 
forms'"- — the  very  expression  they  used  —  "them  who 
belonged  properly  to  another  denomination."  This  of 
course  was  not  said  immediately  to  the  reverend  gentle 
man,  but  he  had  heard  of  it,  and  although  he  made  no  ef 
forts  to  clear  himself  or  his  people  from  the  charge,  it  made 
him  —  being  of  a  modest  and  retiring  turn  of  mind  — 


LOOKING   AROUND.  43 

very  cautious  in  regard  to  such  matters,  and  not  knowing 
how  the  new  minister  felt  as  to  denominated  differences, 
he  feared  to  do  what  his  heart  dictated  as  desirable.  Mr. 
Ransom,  on  the  other  hand,  in  the  largeness  of  his  views, 
embracing  his  brother  minister,  and  all  his  people  as  part 
of  the  fold  of  Christ,  did  not  dare  to  violate  the  usual 
forms  of  social  intercourse  by  calling  first.  Thus  a  dis 
tance  was  kept  up  between  the  two  young  brethren,  for 
they  were  nearly  of  an  age,  for  some  time,  and  it  would 
probably  have  continued  for  years,  if  Mr.  Ransom  had  not 
resolved  to  do  what  was  in  his  power  to  change  such  an 
unnatural  state  of  things.  It  was  his  habit  almost  every 
afternoon  to  spend  an  hour  or  two  in  a  ride  on  horseback, 
and  at  such  times  he  would  call  on  some  of  the  people  of 
his  charge,  and  in  that  way  accomplish  two  important 
ends  —  that  of  personal  intercourse  with  individuals,  and 
the  enjoyment  of  healthful  exei'eise.  One  day,  as  he  was 
riding  along  a  lane  that  led  from  the  more  public  road  to 
a  spot  that  afforded  a  picturesque  view  of  land  and  water 
scenery,  and  was  at  the  same  time  secluded,  so  as  to  allow 
one  disposed  for  meditation,  to  enjoy  the  silent  hour  amid 
the  beauties  of  creation  —  he  had  been  there  many  times 
and  had  never  yet  met  any  one  on  the  road  or  in  the  vi 
cinity  —  stad  it  was  a  marvel  to  him  why  so  charming  a 
spot  should  be  allowed  to  remain  unnoticed  and  unvisit- 
ed.  To  his  surprise,  however,  he  now  saw  at  some  dis 
tance  ahead,  a  person  going  in  the  same  direction  with 
himself.  He  Avas  on  foot  and  walking  leisurely.  It  did 
not  take  long  so  far  to  lessen  the  distance  between  the 
traveler  and  himself,  ere  he  could  recognize  the  individ 
ual.  It  was  the  brother  minister,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Janeway. 
As  Mr.  Ransom  came  up  the  two  gentlemen  politely  ac 
costed  each  other  in  the  usual  form,  although  neither  made 
any  pause  in  his  progress,  with  the  exception  that  the  gen 
tleman  who  was  riding,  had  brought  his  horse  to  a  walk. 
Springing  from  his  seat,  Mr.  Ransom  threw  the  bridle 
over  the  saddle  and  chirruped  to  his  beast,  who  at  once 
pursued  his  course  leisurely  along  the  road,  leaving  his 
master  at  liberty,  who  at  once  offered  his  hand,  which  was 
most  cordially  grasped. 

"  I  think,  brother  Janeway,  that  providence  has  brought 


44  LOOKING   AROUND. 

you  and  me  in  this  narrow  lane,  to  give  us  a  fair  chance 
to  be  introduced  by  Himself,  since  no  one  else  takes  the 
pains  to  do  it  for  us." 

"  I  am  quite  willing,  I  assure  you,  sir,  thus  to  construe 
our  present  meeting,  and  hope  it  may  be  the  beginning  of 
a  pleasant  acquaintance." 

"  I  see  not  why  it  should  be  otherwise ;  we  are  fellow 
laborers  in  the  same  cause,  and  as  two  are  better  than  one 
in  almost  any  work,  I  feel  as  if  each  had  a  claim  to  the 
other's  help." 

"  I  agree  with  you  in  that,  sir,  but  had  you  not  better 
stop  your  horse,  he  may  wander  off." 

"  Oh,  I  presume  he  will  stop  when  he  gets  to  the  end 
of  the  lane,  there  is  a  spot  in  that  vicinity  I  visit  frequent 
ly." 

"  From  which  there  is  so  fine  a  view  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  there,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  quite  often,  and  am  on  my  way  there  now." 

"  I  wonder  then  we  have  not  met  before." 

"  I  generally  take  the  morning  for  my  walk,  but  this  af 
ternoon  thought  I  would  try  the  effect  upon  the  view  of 
a  declining  instead  of  an  ascending  sun.  I  have  often  no 
ticed  that  a  vast  difference  occurs  in  the  aspect  of  the 
same  locality  at  different  periods  of  the  day." 

"  Yes,  it  makes  a  great  difference  at  times  which  way 
the  shadows  are  cast.  There  is  doubtless  more  brilliancy 
in  the  views  of  nature  in  the  earlier  hours,  but  the  chas 
tened  aspect  she  presents  at  the  closing  of  day,  seems 
more  peculiarly  fitted  to  inspire  calm  and  peaceful,  and 
heavenly  thoughts." 

"  I  have  changed  my  views  somewhat,"  said  Mr.  Jane- 
way,  "  as  to  the  influence  of  nature  over  us,  since  I  have 
had  an  opportunity  to  observe  more  closely  the  effect  pro 
duced  upon  those  brought  up  and  living  in  the  country. 
They  seem,  in  general,  obtuse  as  to  any  special  charm  she 
.has  to  exhibit.  For  instance,  I  have  remarked  that  few, 
if  any,  of  all  those  I  have  had  opportunity  to  converse 
with,  seem  to  realize  the  quickening  power  of  the  fresh, 
new  life  of  the  opening  spring,  nor  'the  richness  of  sum 
mer  in  its  deepest  verdure,  nor  to  me  stranger  than  all, 
the  full  golden  beauty  of  the  mellow  autumn.  Why,  sir, 


LOOKING   AROUND.  45 

persons  have  told  me  as  I  have  been  expressing  my  admi 
ration  of  some  view,  more  beautiful  in  its  variety  of 
blended  colors  than  painter's  pencil  ever  delineated,  "  that 
they  did  think  it  was  rather  pretty,  but  they  had  never 
taken  any  special  notice  of  the  fact  before." 

"Nature,  like  the  arts,"  replied  Mr.  Ransom,  "  must  be 
studied  before  a  full  perception  of  her  relative  beauties 
can  be  enjoyed, —  the  former  however,  in  the  spirit  of  the 
old  Jewish  saints.  To  them  Nature  told  of  God.  The 
Heavens  declared  His  glory,  the  clouds  were  His  robes, 
the  lightning  His  fire,  the  thunder  His  voice,  the  earth 
quake  was  caused  by  His  touch,  and  the  whirlwind  was 
His  chariot.  Oh,  what  a  magnificent  world  it  must  have 
been  to  those  who  were  thus  filled  with  the  consciousness 
of  an  Omnipresent  and  Omnipotent  God.  It  seems  to 
me,  brother  Janeway,  that  we  have  got  further  away  from 
our  God  than  the  old  Jews,  although  privileged  with  a 
relationship  of  the  most  endearing  nature." 

"  Perhaps,  brother  Ransom,  not  farther  away  from  Him, 
but  not  looking  at  Him  through  the  same  medium.  Our 
minds  are  watching  for  the  signs  of  God  in  the  spiritual 
experience  of  ourselves  and  others,  and  in  one  sense,  that 
is  the  only  way  now  in  which  to  us  the  supernatural  is 
manifest.  The  old  method  of  communication  between 
heaven  and  earth,  seems  to  have  been  done  away  with ; 
there  are  no  heavenly  messengers  coming  to  us  unawares, 
no  voices  calling  to  us  in  the  night,  no  ladder  on  which 
we  can  see  the  angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending, 
no  miraculous  gifts  even  to  the  church  ;  the  unseen,  silent 
mysterious  working  of  the  Almighty  spirit  upon  the  soul 
of  man,  bringing  light  out  of  darkness  and  order  out  of 
confusion,  and  peace  and  purity  out  of  strife  and  corrup 
tion,  is  now  our  only  witness,  or  at  least  the  only  one  we 
are  the  habit  of  giving  heed  to,  that  God  is  on  the  throne 
and  that  we  are  His  children." 

"  And  add  to  that,  brother  Janeway,  that  we  have  phi 
losophized  God  out  of  the  universe,  or  at  best  but  allow 
Him  the  credit  of  having  first  started  the  machinery, 
and  established  laws  by  which  the  mighty  engine  must  be 
governed,  and  then  left  it  to  go  on  in  its  involutions  and 
evolutions,  accomplishing  the  vast  and  inscrutable  designs 


. 

46  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

of  its  mighty  builder,  without  any  direction  but  those 
laws  which  at  first  He  established  for  its  guidance.  Oh, 
my  dear  sir,  when  I  think  of  the  place  which  philosophy 
would  give  our  God  in  His  universe,  I  am  ready  to  cry 
out  with  Mary  Magdalene,  'they  have  taken  away  my 
Lord  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him.'  They 
would  rob  us  of  our  Heavenly  Father,  and  leave  us  in  the 
grasp  of  unalterable  Fate." 

"  You  spoke  just  now,  brother  Ransom,  of  the  old  Jew 
ish  saints ;  have  you  ever  thought  of  the  probable  sub 
jects  that  occupied  the  mind  of  Isaac  as  he  was  abroad 
in  the  fields  meditating  at  the  eventide.  Sometimes  we 
think  we  have  a  more  privileged  condition  than  the  patri 
archs  in  the  clearer  revelation  of  the  New  Testament  and 
the  more  complete  developments  of  the  Divine  will ;  but 
there  must  have  been  a  reality  in  the  connection  between 
heaven  and  earth,  in  the  interest  which  God  and  his  an 
gels  take  in  the  affairs  of  men,  to  their  minds  which  we 
find  it  hard  to  grasp.  How  could  Isaac  doubt  the  words 
of  his  own  fathei-,  when  he  told  of  the  many  times  from 
Uz  of  the  Chaldees,  to  Haran,  and  from  Haran  to  Bershe- 
ba  through  all  his  journeyings,  God  had  appeared  to  him, 
spoken  words  to  him  full  of  rich  promise,  not  only  for  his 
posterity,  but  through  them  to  the  whole  world.  And 
from  the  field  when  he  was  meditating,  could  he  not  see 
the  very  hills,  now  stricken  with  the  curse  of  God,  that 
rose  above  the  sea  of  Sodom.  A  year  before  his  own 
birth  that  desolate  region  was  a  fruitful  valley,  his  own 
father  had  told  him  of  the  visit  of  the  -three  travelers  in 
the  heat  of  day,  of  the  feast  made  to  welcome  them,  of 
his  surprise  to  find  out  that  they  were  messengers  from 
heaven,  that  they  had  come  down  to  visit  Sodom  and 
were  commissioned  to  destroy  it  if  the  report  of  it  in 
heaven  was  found  to  be  correct ;  and  Abraham  himself 
had  seen  the  smoke  of  that  terrible  fire  '  ascend  up  as  the 
smoke  of  a  great  furnace.' " 

"  Yes,  my  dear  sir,  and  it  did  not  trouble  him,"  replied 
Mr.  Ransom,  "  how  the  fire  was  kindled,  whether  the  soil 
was  full  of  bituminous  matter  and  kindled  by  a  lightning 
flash,  or  whether  a  volcano  threw  forth  the  burning  ele 
ments  that  had  been  there  rumbling  for  ages ;  to  Him  it 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  47 

was  simply  the  hand  of  God.  '  God  rained  fire  and  brim 
stone  from  heaven  upon  it,  and  he  did  it  because  of  their 
wickedness.'  Oh,  how  grand  in  his  simplicity  looms  up 
the  figure  of  that  good  old  Abraham  pleading  for  that 
guilty  place  !  How  modest  his  request !  How  respectfully 
is  each  petition  worded  !  How  sure  he  seems  to  be  that 
Sodom  and  his  nephew  would  be  safe,'  for  the  promise 
was  at  last  given  him,  that  if  there  were  only  ten  right 
eous  souls  in  it,  the  judgment  should  be  stayed.  Yes, 
truly  Isaac  could  not  be  at  a  loss  for  themes  on  which  to 
meditate,  although  he  had  no  Bible  on  which  to  draw. 
He  could  look  back  upon  the  journey  to  Morinh,  upon  the 
altar  he  helped  to  build,  upon  the  gleaming  knife  raised 
aloft  and  just  stayed  in  time  by  the  voice  from  heaven. 
Yes,  brother  Janeway,  I  often  have  reflected  upon  the 
lives  of  those  good  old  men,  although  I  must  say  you 
have  given  me  a  new  idea  in  the  subject  of  Isaac's  medi 
tation  in  the  evening  hour.  So  you  see  my  suggestion 
that  we  might  be  mutual  helpers  in  the  work  assigned  us, 
has  already  been  verified." 

"  I  am  happy  in  the  belief  that  we  may  by  our  mutual 
intercourse,  my  dear  sir,  pass  many  pleasant  and  profita 
ble  hours;  but  I  have  my  doubts  as  to  the  help  we  shall 
be  able  to  afford  each  other  in  the  special  work  in  which 
we  are  engaged  ;  there  seems  to  me  a  strange  and  very 
marked  distrust  and  jealousy  existing  between  the  two 
denominations,  and  I  very  much  fear  any  attempt  on  our 
part  to  break  it  may  only  make  matters  worse." 

"  I  will  tell  you,  brother  Janeway,  what  we  must  do. 
'  "We  must  look  around.'  I  spent  the  last  year  at  the 
house  of  a  minister  somewhat  advanced  in  life ;  not  a 
learned  man  or  a  man  of  genius,  but  very  wise  in  his 
dealings  with  man.  It  was  a  common  saying  of  his  in 
reference  to  accomplishing  any  design  where  prejudices 
and  old  customs  were  to  be  encountered,  'We  must 
look  round  a  bit  and  watch  our  chance.'  And  I  think  the 
idea  a  good  one.  In  all  attempts  to  break  down  old  pre 
judices  great  caution  must  be  used,  and  time  must  work 
the  salutary  change ;  if  we  are  known  to  be  on  friendly 
tei-ms  with  each  other,  that  will  do  something  towards  it, 
and  the  exercise  of  a  large  charity  in  our  own  hearts  will 


48  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

have  a  powerful,  though  unseen,  and  perhaps  unconscious 
influence  over  the  hearts  of  our  people  —  at  any  rate  let 
us  look  around,  step  cautiously  and  act  conscientiously, 
and  if  we  cannot  accomplish  all  we  would  —  we  may  do 
more  than  we  now  can  anticipate." 

And  thus  an  intercourse  was  commenced  between  the 
two  young  ministers,  that  was  to  them  individually  a 
source  of  enjoyment  and  profit.  They  took  no  pains  to 
conceal  their  intimacy  from  public  notice.  Walking  to 
gether,  and  riding  together  and  mutually  visiting  each 
other's  study,  but  carefully  avoiding  all  attempts  to  med 
dle  with  denominational  peculiarities.  There  was  at  first 
more  or  less  talk  and  a  great  deal  of  wondering,  but  the 
conclusion  which  most  arrived  at  was,  "  that  there  would 
no  harm  come  of  it." 

The  year  at  length  came  round  for  which  Mr.  Ransom 
had  stipulated,  when  the  trial  was  to  be  made  whether 
the  people  were  satisfied  to  settle  him  as  their  spiritual 
guide,  and  whether  he  felt  satisfied  that  this  was  the  part 
of  the  vineyard  where  the  master  would  have  him  work  ; 
and  as  he  had  gone  on  through  the  year  in  a  straight 
forward  course,  pursuing  what  he  thought  the  path  of 
duty,  courting  no  man's  favor,  although  exercising  to 
wards  all  that  gentle,  Christ-like  demeanor  which  is  far 
removed  from  servility  as  from  haughty  indifference  ;  he 
could  not  but  feel  that  the  voice  of  the  people  under  such 
circumstances  would  be  to  him  the  voice  of  God.  He 
had  acted  through  his  year  of  trial  as  he  should  continue 
to  act  after  he  should  be  permanently  settled.  He  knew 
what  work  he  had  to  perform,  and  his  ability  to  perform 
it  had  been  fully  tested,  so  that  both  parties,  if  an  alli 
ance  should  be  formed,  had  a  fair  and  full  understanding. 

The  result  was  that  the  call  which  had  been  originally 
made  was  fully  confirmed,  and  the  Rev.  Robert  Ransom 
was  to  be  ordained  pastor  of  the  church  at  Woodburn, 
with  a  salary  of  seven  hundred  dollars  a  year  exclusive 
of  the  parsonage.  This  building,  with  the  land  attached — 
about  twelve  acres  —  was  a  gift,  in  the  early  part  of  the 
establishment  of  the  church,  by  an  old  sea  captain.  The 
house  was  a  substantial  stone  building,  of  one  story  in 
height,  with  four  good  sized  rooms  on  a  floor,  a  wide  ball 


LOOKING    AROUND.  49 

running  through  it,  a  wing  on  the  north  side  used  for  a 
kitchen,  and  a  back  building  appropriate  for  a  spai-e  room 
or  study.  The  place  did  not  present  a  very  inviting  ap 
pearance  when  Mr.  Ransom  first  took  possession  of  it. 
The  building  itself  was  sound  and  had  been  kept  in  good 
repair,  but  the  fences  had  been  neglected,  and  the  garden 
had  a  wild  appeai'ance,  the  former  pastor  being  a  man  of 
studious  habits  and  perhaps  rather  indolent,  had  taken  no 
care  beyond  the  raising  of  a  few  of  the  more  necessary 
vegetables,  and  had  allowed  the  shrubs  and  plants  intend 
ed  for  ornament  to  have  their  own  way ;  even  the  rasp 
berry  hedge  had  been  untrimmed  for  years,  and  presented 
an  aspect  of  wildness  equal  to  any  thing  that  could  be 
found  on  a  swamp  ditch.  The  land  too,  which  spread  in 
two  pretty  level  fields  back  of  the  house,  had  very  much 
the  appearance  of  a  common,  for  although  there  was  abun 
dance  of  fencing  material  lying  along  where  the  fences 
ought  to  be,  they  were  useless  as  a  protection  against  ma 
rauders,  and  of  course  stray  cows  and  horses,  as  well  as 
sheep  and  hogs,  had  monopolized  these  premises,  and 
seemed  quite  at  home  on  them.  Mr.  Ransom  soon  per 
ceived  what  was  needed,  and  therefore  made  the  request 
as  already  stated,  that  a  man  should  be  procured  to  at 
tend  to  out  door  labors,  as  well  as  a  woman  of  respecta 
ble  character  and  ability  to  take  charge  of  domestic  mat 
ters.  He  saw  clearly  that  with  proper  management  the 
land  and  the  garden  might  be  made  to  yield  a  suitable  re 
turn  for  the  cost  of  labor,  and  without  the  necessary  care 
and  labor  they  would  be  useless  apendages  to  the  establish 
ment,  and  be  doing  a  positive  injury,  for  he  could  not  but 
judge  that  such  untidy  surroundings  to  the  mansion  of  a 
minister,  must  eventually  injure  the  respect  of  his  people 
as  much  as  ungain  and  untidy  garments,  on  his  person.  It 
was  not  long  after  he  took  possession  before  an  entirely 
new  aspect  was  witnessed. 

"Was  there  ever  such  a  change  in  any  place  as  our 
young  minister  has  made  in  the  parsonage  the  few  months 
he  has  been  there  !  "  said  the  wife  of  Mr.  Bellows,  one  of 
the  leading  men  in  the  church,  to  a  company  of  ladies  at 
a  social  gathering  beneath  he'r  own  roof;  "  every  thing  is 
in  order,  and  as  neat  as  his  own  personal  appearance." 


50  LOOKING    AROUND. 

"  And  Mr.  Graham  says,"  replied  a  lady,  "  that  he  has 
only  employed  a  carpenter  for  three  days ;  all  the  work 
has' been  done  by  the  man  he  has  hired  for  the  year,  and 
Mr.  Stowell  says  the  people  ought  to  make  him  a  hand 
some  present,  for  he  has  made  the  property  worth  more 
than  it  was  by  some  hundred  dollars." 

"Well,  I  guess  there  will  be  presents  enough  ;  we  shall 
all  have  a  chance  to  do  something,  when  the  year  is 
round,  and  he  is  ordained  and  brings  his  lady  home,  and 
I  think  we  had  better  see  to  it  and  have  a  subscription 
made,  and  get  enough  to  furnish  the  parlor  complete. 
What  do  you  think,  Mrs.  Bellows  ?  " 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mrs.  Graham,  I  have  my 
doubts  as  to  the  matter,  for  the  reason  that  Mr.  Ransom 
seems  to  be  peculiar  about  such  things.  Mr.  Bellows 
says  that  when  he  first  called  on  Mr.  Ransom,  as  one  of 
the  committee  of  settlement,  that  there  were  some  things 
said  by  Mr.  Ransom,  in  the  course  of  conversation,  that 
gave  them  to  understand  that  he  would  only  receive  as 
salary  what  should  be  raised  through  the  regular  society 
organization.  But  he  may  feel  different  about  such  a  plan 
as  you  propose,  only  I  think  the  arrangement  had  better 
be  made  very  quietly;  let  the  paper  be  handed  only  to  a 
few  of  the  more  able  people  and  not  carried  round  in 
general." 

"  But  in  that  case,"  replied  Mrs.  Graham,  "  it  will  not 
be  a  gift  from  the  people  in  general ;  you  know  all  will 
want  to  feel  that  they  have  done  something,  if  it  is  ever 
so  little,  so  that  when  they  visit  there  they  can  have  the 
satisfaction  of  feeling  that  they  had  a  hand  in  it,  and  that 
no  matter  how  handsome  it  is,  they  helped  to  furnish  it 
and  have  a  sort  of  right  to  enjoy  it." 

"  True,  one  would  feel  a  little  more  at  home  in  it,  to 
know  that  she  had  helped  to  furnish  it." 

But  the  good  ladies  were  doomed  to  disappointment, 
which  for  a  time  had  like  to  have  disturbed  the  quiet  of 
the  church  in  general ;  and  but  for  the  good  sense  and 
prudent  management  of  the  trustees  and'  elders,  might 
have  been  of  a  serious  nature  ;  for  women  are  not  always 
alive  to  consequences,  nor  lovely  as  they  in  general  are. 
more  ready  than  the  sterner  sex  to  be  thwarted  in  their 


LOOKING   ABOUND  51 

plans,  especially  if  they  be  in  their  view  plans  of  benevo 
lence. 

All  the  arrangements  had  been  made  for  the  ordination, 
and  on  the  evening  of  that  day  Mr.  Ransom  was  to  be 
united  to  the  fair  one  whom  he  had  chosen  and  whom  he 
dearly  loved.  It  was  the  early  spring,  and  every  thing 
around  the  parsonage  had  been  put  in  the  most  perfect 
order.  The  garden  as  neat,  as  nice  taste  and  skillful 
hands  could  arrange  it,  and  the  borders  filled  with  the 
choicest  flowers,  just  opening  to  the  genial  sunshine, 
when  a  load  of  goods  was  seen  to  drive  up  from  the  sloop 
that  had  reached  her  moorings  the  past  night,  and  pass  on 
in  the  direction  of  the  minister's  house.  It  was  quite 
bulky  in  appearance,  but  from  the  ease  with  which  the 
horses  trotted  along  the  level  highway,  it  could  not  be 
very  weighty.  A  covering  had  been  carefully  spread 
over  the  articles  as  if  to  protect  them  from  the  dust  or 
from  general  observation,  and  this  in  itself  was  enough 
to  excite  curiosity.  It  would  be  a  very  superfluous  waste 
of  thought  in  a  city  to  give  anything  like  a  guess  as  to 
where  the  different  vehicles  were  going,  or  with  what 
they  were  freighted ;  every  one  there  has  enough  busi 
ness  on  hand  of  a  personal  nature  to  prevent  any  curious 
surmises  as  to  their  neighbors'  comings  and  goings ;  but 
in  the  country  there  is  leisure  enough  to  do  all  one  has  to 
do  for  himself  or  herself,  and  to  keep  a  running  account 
of  the  more  general  affairs  of  others.  There  is  nothing 
malicious  designed  by  it,  it  merely  manifests  how  much 
of  a  family  concern  the  whole  settlement  has  become,  and 
how  much  interest  they  take  in  one  another.  "  Now  this 
loaded  wagon  must  have  come  from  the  landing;  it  must 
be  furniture,  for  it  was  not  heavy  in  proportion  to  its  bulk, 
and  it  must  be  going  to  the  parsonage,  for  the  team  be 
longed  to  Bradford,  who  lived  near  to  it,  and  there  was 
no  other  house  in  the  place  that  was  not  already  furnish 
ed."  Mrs.  Graham,  among  others  had  guessed  this  out, 
and  the  wagon  had  not  gone  a  hundred  rods  past  her 
house  before  her  bonnet  and  shawl  were  on,  and  she  mak 
ing  all  decent  haste  towards  the  house  of  her  neighbor, 
Mrs.  Bellows. 

"  Did  you  see  that  wagon  go  by,"  was  the  first  excla- 


52  LOOKING   AROUND. 

mation  of  Mrs.  Bellows  after  giving  her  friend  the  cus 
tomary  salutation,  "  and  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,  I  fear,  that  our  plan  is  defeated,  and  I  have 
told  my  husband  again  and  again  that  we  should  be  too 
late ;  the  thipgs  ought  to  have  been  got  a  week  ago,  and 
not  left  so  to  the  last  minute." 

"  Then  you  think  that  was  a  load  of  furniture  for  the 
parsonage  ?  " 

"  I  know  it ;  it  was  Bradford's  team,  he  lives,  you  know, 
close  by  Mr.  Ransom  ;  he  brought  it  from  the  sloop  that 
came  in  last  night,  and  I  could  see  plain  enough  the  leg 
of  a  chair  sticking  out  nicely,  as  he  thought  every  thing 
was  covered  up.  Now,  Betsey,  we  wont  lose  any  time ; 
where  is  Mr.  Bellows  ?  " 

"  He  has  just  gone  to  give  the  man  some  directions 
about  plowing,  but  he  will  be  back  in  a  few  minutes,  for 
he  has  promised  to  spend  this'day  helping  me  arrange  my 
flower  beds;  did  you  ever  see  any  thing  so  sweet  as  Mr. 
Ransom's  garden.  He  will  make  a  good  husband,  I  know, 
for  he  seems  so  fond  of  flowers,  and  has  taken  so  much 
pains  to  have  such  a  fine  assortment." 

"  Well,  if  he  is  not  fond  of-  them  himself,  I  expect 
somebody  else  is,  and  that  shows  well  in  him.  A  man 
that  is  desirous  to  please  his  wife  in  small  things,  will  be 
very  likely  to  do  it  in  more- important  matters;  but  as 
you  say,  his  garden  puts  us  all  to  shame.  I  never  saw 
Graham  so  worked  up  about  the  garden  before  ;  why,  he 
kept  two  men  out  of  the  field  yesterday  the  whole  live 
long  day,  and  himself  too,  working  for  dear  life.  'Ah,  ha !' 
I  said  to  him, '  you  are  getting  quite  gallant,  you  think 
I  suppose,  that  the  young  lady  who  is  coming  must  be 
fond  of  a  nice  garden,  or  there  would  not  have  been  so 
much  care  taken  to  prepare  one  for  her  ?  ' ' 

" '  "W  ell  Mattie,'  he  replied,  '  I  must  say,  I  never  before 
thought  a  garden  made  such  a  difference  in  the  appear 
ance  of  things ;  you  shall  have  a  nice  garden  after  this,  I 
promise  you.'  So  you  see,  Betsey,  our  minister  is  doing 
good  in  more  ways  than  one.  But  I  want  so  to  see  Mr. 
Bellows ;  he  is  the  very  man  to  go  for  us,  and  he  must  do 
it  right  of£  He  must  go  and  see  Mr.  Ransom  and  let  him 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  53 

know  all  about  it,  and  that  we  wish  to  furnish  his  best 
parlor,  and  that  it  shall  be  done  handsomely ;  and  then  you 
see  if  he  has  got  furniture  for  it  already,  no  doubt  it  will 
be  rather  plain,  and  he  can  take  it  for  some  other  room. 
Now  don't  you  thirrk  Mr.  Bellows  will  go  ?  "  • 

"  He  will  go  if  you  ask  him,  no  doubt,  for  you  know  you 
are  quite  a  favorite  of  his." 

"  Am  I  ?  well,  then  it  is  tit  for  tat,  for  he  is  a  favorite 
with  all  the  ladies  —  but  here  he  comes.  Oh,  Mr.  Bellows, 
I  am  so  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Glad  to  see  me !  then  I  know  you  girls  have  some 
thing  in  the  wind.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  We  want  you .  to  go  right  off  and  see  Mr.  Ransom 
about  our  business  ;  he  will  have  his  house  all  furnished 
before  we  get  a  single  thing  done." 

"  What  makes  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Reason  enough.  Bradford  has  just  gone  past  with  a 
large  load  of  furniture." 

"Well,  what  of  that?" 

"  Why,  it  is  a  good  deal  of  a  matter.  No  doubt  it  is 
for  Mr.  Ransom  ;  and  now  we  want  you  to  go  right  off 
and  see  Mr.  Ransom,  and  let  him  know  what  we  ladies 
want,  and  if  he  has  procured  furniture  for  his  best  room, 
tell  him  he  can  take  that  for  some  other  room.  What  we 
wish  is  to  furnish  his  best  room,  and  that  we  will  do  it 
handsomely.  Now  do  go,  will  you  not  ?  You  are  inti 
mate  with  him,  more  so  than  any  one  else,  and  the  most 
suitable  person  to  break  the  matter  to  him." 

"I  tell  you  what,  Mattie,"  said  Mr.  Bellows,  taking  a 
seat,  "  I  would  do  almost  any  thing  to  oblige  you,  or  your 
good  husband  —  to  say  nothing  of  my  wife  —  but  I  hate 
most  confoundedly  to  have  anything  to  do  about  this 
business.  I  know  Mr.  Ransom,  or  I  think  I  do,  better  than 
any  of  you." 

"  Well,  then  you  are  the  very  person  to  go  to  him  ;  and 
besides,  what  objections  can  there  be?  There  can  be  no 
possible  difficulty,  only  that  he  may  have  purchased  fur 
niture  already,  but  as  we  say,  he  can  make  use  of  that  in 
other  rooms." 

"  If  you  would  give  me  time  to  speak,  Mattie,  I  would 
tell  you  where  the  difficulty  lies.  You  see,  Mr.  Ransom 


54  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

is  as  odd  about  some  things  as  Dick's  hat  band,  and  you 
know  all  about  that." 

"How  you  do  talk,  Edward  Bellows!  Mr.  Ransom 
odd !  I  thought  you  esteemed  him  so  highly." 

"  So  I  do.  There  is  no  man  I  know  that  I  would  put 
along  side  of  him  —  there  is  no  man  I  would  do  moi'e  to 
oblige,  and  there  is  no  man  in  the  world  to  whom  I  would 
go,  if  at  any  time  I  had  any  trouble  and  wanted  the  sym 
pathy  of  a  true  friend,  so  soon  as  him  —  and  there  is  no 
one  whose  advice  I  should  value  so  much  as  his.  He  is 
as  true  as  steel.  He  is  a  diamond,  a  pure  diamond,  and 
yet  I  tell  you  he  is  odd.  Now  don't  look  so  glum  and 
downcast.  I  am  not  saying  what  need  hurt  your  feelings. 
I  would  not  do  that,  for  I  know  you  ladies  all  love  him 
almost  to  making  some  of  your  husbands  jealous,  and  yet 
you  do  not  any  of  you  think  as  highly  of  him  as  I  do.  I 
know  him  —  I  have  been  intimate  with  him  —  I  have 
talked  hours  and  hours  with  him,  and  never  yet  got  tired. 
He  has  treated  me  with  the  utmost  politeness,  and  his 
study  seems  like  home  to  me  when  I  get  into  it ;  but  af 
ter  all,  there  seems  somehow  a  line  between  him  and  me 
that  I  should  not  dare  to  step  over.  One  can  go  so  near 
to  it  but  no  further.  How  he  does  it,  or  what  there  is  in 
him  that  keeps  him  as  it  does,  within  a  certain  enclosure 
where  no  other  man  can  come,  is  more  than  I  can  say." 

"  And  you  are  afraid  that  in  going  to  him,  and  making 
known  our  wishes,  you  might  possibly  cross  that  line. 
Edward  Bellows,  it  is  all  your  imagination  !  " 

"  Well,  Mattie,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do ;  if  Char 
lie  will  go  with  me,  I  will  venture  it." 

"He  will  go." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  Charlie  Graham  would  say  no,  if  I  told 
him  most  seriously  that  my  heart  was  set  upon  it  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  likely  you  have  a  way  of  getting  round  him 
like  most  other  wives ;  but  go  at  once  and  hurry  him 
along,  for  I  must  finish  the  job  as  soon  as  possible.  I 
have  promised  Betsey  to  spend  the  whole  day  as  her  gar 
dener  ;  so  tell  Charlie  to  hurry  along." 

And  Charles  Graham  under  some  charm  which  his  love 
ly  wife  knew  how  to  exercise,  did  hurry  along,  for  it  was 


LOOKING   AROUND.  55 

less  than  an  hour  after  the  scene  described  above,  that  the 
two  gentlemen  were  on  their  way  to  the  parsonage  —  go 
ing  not  to  please  themselves,  nor  fully  under  the  influ 
ence  of  their  own  judgment  as  to  the  propriety  of  their 
errand. 

"  If  he  was  like  any  other  minister  we  ever  had  here, 
Graham,  I  should  feel  different  about  this  matter,  but  you 
know  what  he  told  us  when  we  were  fixing  about  his  sal 
ary —  there  must  be  no  raising  of  subscriptions  —  he 
wanted  nothing  in  that  way  —  what  salary  he  received 
must  come  to  him  through  our  organized  method  of  rais 
ing  money." 

"  Well,  Bellows,  we  might  almost  call  that  an  organ 
ized  method.  Why,  in  the  next  town,  one  third  of  the 
salary  is  raised  by  subscription,  and  that  of  only  three 
men." 

"  I  know  it,  and  everybody  has  to  take  off  their  hat  to 
them ;  and  their  ministers  know  it,  and  feel  bound  to  be 
very  obsequious  to  them,  and  if  possible  do  or  say  noth 
ing  to  offend  them.  I  never  thought  of  the  matter  as  I 
now  do,  or  when  you  and  I  went  to  propose  terms  of  set 
tlement  to  Mr.  Ransom,  I  would  never  have  made  such  a 
fool  of  myself  as  I  did." 

"  Nor  I  either ;  but  it  is  such  a  common  thing,  or  it  has 
been  in  many  places,  that  I  presume  few  think  at  all  of 
the  effect  it  has  on  the  mind  of  the  minister.  Here  we 
are,  though  —  you  will  be  the  spokesman." 

"  What  splendid  tulips  !  sweet  scented,  too  !•"  This  was 
said  as  they  were  passing  through  the  path  from  the  front 
gate,  its  borders  lined  with  bunches  of  that  rich  flower 
intermingled  with  hyacinths ;  the  air  was  filled  with  their 
fragrance. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  you  find  me  in  the  midst  of,  I  was 
going  to  say,  housekeeping,  but  more  properly,  house  ar 
ranging.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  though  ;  come  in  if  you 
can  find  your  way  through  my  trumpery.  We  have 
placed  it  all  in  the  hall,  as  Alice,  my  housekeeper,  insists 
upon  it  the  floors  must  be  scrubbed  before  the  carpets  can 
go  down,  though  where  there  is  any  dirt  to  scrub  off  is 
more  than  I  can  see ;  women,  however,  about  such  mat 
ters  must  have  their  own  way." 


56  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  It  will  be  well  for  you  sir,  if  you  have  profited  by 
what  experience  Alice  has  taught  you,  it  may  save  trou 
ble  in  future.  Women  must  not  only  have  their  way  in 
the  house,  but  sometimes  about  matters  out  of  the  house, 
too ;  for  instance,  here  are  brother  Graham  and  myself 
called  off  from  our  employments,  at  the  bidding  of  two  la 
dies,  whom  for  very  good  reasons  we  do  not  like  to  diso 
bey,  on  an  errand  to  our  minister,  which  we  think  might 
just  as  well  have  been  done  by  ladies  as  by  us." 

"  Perhaps  they  had  so  much  regard  to  my  feelings,  that 
is,  if  it  be  a  question  of  yes  or  no  —  as  not  to  be  willing 
I  should  be  put  to  pain  in  their  presence,  if  unfortunate 
ly  the  latter  answer  must  be  given." 

"  That  or  something  else,  at  any  rate,  Mr.  Ransom,  we 
have  a  commission  to  you  from  them,  and  I  don't  know 
how  many  others,  but  it  must  be  delivered  to  you  in  pri 
vate." 

"  Pass  on  then  into  my  study,  gentlemen,  you  both 
know  the  way ;  in  a  few  moments  I  will  be  at  leisure." 

"  New  paper  in  here,  too  !  how  very  neat,  Graham,  is  it 
not?  "  This  was  said  as  they  entered  the  room. 

"  Perfectly  so,  and  how  orderly  everything  is  arranged  ; 
this  seems  to  me,  Bellows,  whenever  I  come  into  it,  or 
think  of  it,  as  a  kind  of  holy  place  —  as  though  nothing 
impure  could  stick  to  any  thing  —  no  doubt  it  is  a  place 
of  much  prayer." 

"Those  same  feelings  effect  me  in  reference  to  this 
room.  I  never  feel  like  trifling  here,  and  that  makes  me 
think  of  an  idea  that  has  come  into  my  head  lately ;  why 
would  it  not  be  a  good  plan  for  any  of  us  to  have  a  room 
—  call  it  a  library  or  what  you  please  —  but  a  place  where 
every  day  at  certain  seasons  of  it,  we  could  go  and  sit 
down  and  shut  the  door,  and  be  alone  and  think.  Let 
the  room  be  to  us  a  sort  of  Bethel,  and  resolve  with  our 
selves  that  when  we  enter  there,  every  passion  that  might 
be  working  in  our  breasts  that  was  wrong,  should  be  im 
mediately  hushed — just  as  if  we  had  come  into  the  pres 
ence  of  the  Searcher  of  hearts,  and  must  expel  anger, 
malice,  envy,  jealousy,  pride,  covetousness,  and  every 
hurtful  lust  —  let  the  room  in  fact,  be  to  us  a  consecrated 
spot." 


LOOKING   AROUND.  57 

"  It  is  a  good  idea.  I  never  thought  of  it  before,  but 
I  believe  it  would  be  good  for  us.  I  am  glad  you  suggest 
ed  it,  for  you  know  I  am  about  making  an  addition  to  my 
house  ;  I  mean  to  have  such  a  room,  Bellows." 

"And  I  will  too  —  that  is,  I  mean  to  coax  Betsey,  to  let 
me  have  one  of  our  rooms  —  we  have  more  than  we  can 
really  make  use  of.  The  fact  is  as  you  say,  we  want  time 
for  thinking  —  that  is,  for  thinking,  and  meditating  and 
praying,  and  not  let  the  world  run  away  with  us  altogeth 
er."  , 

"  Well  gentlemen,"  said  Mr.  Ransom,  as  he  entered  the 
room,  "  1  am  at  your  servipe,  now." 

"  Our  story,  sir,  is  a  short  one,  and  soon  told.  You 
must  know,  Mr.  Ransom,  that  it  has  got  to  be  very  much 
the  custom  in  most  parishes  for  the  people,  and  more  es 
pecially  the  ladies,  when  a  young  minister  is  about  to  set 
tle,  to  club  together  and  show  their  kind  feelings  by  do 
ing  something  by  way  of  relieving  him  of  expense,  by 
furnishing  his  house,  or  a  least  some  portion  of  it  —  and 
as  our  ladies  know  that  part  of  your  house  is  already  sup 
plied,  they  have  proposed  among  themselves  to  raise  mon 
ey  enough  to  fit  out  one  room  designed  for  your  best  par 
lor,  and  to  do  it  handsomely.  The  money  is  all  on  hand, 
and  more  can  be  had  if  needed,  and  the  furniture  would 
have  been  bought  and  sent  here,  but  I  advised  them  that 
you  should  be  consulted  first,  as  you  might  possibly  have 
some  choice  about  a  selection." 

"  I  thank  you  veiy  much,  brother  Bellows,  for  your  con 
sideration  of  my  feelings,  and  I  wish  you  both,  brethren, 
to  say  to  your  good  ladies,  and  through  them  to  all  the 
generous  hearts  that  have  devised  this  plan  of  expressing 
their  interest  in  me  —  that  I  feel  deeply  this  token  of 
their  kindness ;  it  is  worth  more  to  me  than  ten  times  the 
value  in  money  they  propose  to  expend.  I  thank  them 
most  heartily,  but  if  you  are  not  too  much  in  haste,  I 
should  like  to  say  a  few  things  to  you,  and  let  you  know 
a  little  how  I  feel  about  this  and  other  matters,  and  my 
reasons  for  it." 

"If  you  can  spare  the  time  sir,  I  think  we  can." 

"I  rather  think  neither  of  us  have  much  time  to  spare 
at  present,  but  as  this  matter  is,  as  I  view  it,  a  subject  of 
3* 


58  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

most  importance  both  to  you  and  me,  perhaps  we  shall 
each  of  us  feel  that  the  time  consumed  will  not  have  been 
wasted.  When  I  made  up  my  mind  to  make  the  Gospel 
ministry  my  life  work,  I  resolved  to  do  all  in  my  power 
to  prepare  myself  suitably  for  it.  I  did  not  intend  to 
take  the  shortest  cut  to  the  pulpit,  and  throw  myself  upon 
providence  to  assist  me  when  I  got  there  to  fulfill  its  du 
ties.  I  believed  that  some  experience  at  least,  was  neces 
sary  to  enable  me,  or  any  other  young  man,  to  take  the 
responsible  position  of  a  settled  pastor,  and  fill  it  to  the 
honor  of  God,  and  the  profit  of  his  people.  I  therefore 
determined  to  look  well  around  and  mark  as  I  was  able, 
such  events  in  the  course  of  my  preparatory  studies,  as 
would  throw  light  upon  my  own  future  path  of  duty.  I 
wished  to  learn  as  far  as  possible  where  the  rocks  and 
quicksands  lay,  against  which  so  many  ministers  get 
wrecked  or  injured ;  for  this  purpose,  whenever  I  could 
obtain  board  in  the  family  of  a  settled  pastor,  I  did  so  ; 
and  as  in  general,  I  found  such  families,  if  not  straiten 
ed  for  means,  at  least  very  ready  to  add  to  their  receipts 
the  profit  from  my  board,  I  -had  seldom  any  difficulty  in 
getting  the  accommodation.  And  now,  gentlemen,  to 
say  nothing  of  the  many  things  thus  brought  under  my 
inspection,  from  which  I  hope  I  have  learned  some  use 
ful  lessons,  I  will  merely  relate  to  you  a  few  items  that 
have  a  bearing  upon  our  present  topic. 

"  In  several  societies  amongst  which  I  was  thrown,  I  no 
ticed  that  although  there  was  apparently  abundant  means 
to  have  provided  for  their  minister  a  regular  salary  that 
would  have  met  all  his  necessities,  they  seemed  to  prefer 
that  the  nominal  salary  should  be  only  large  enough  to 
eke  out  a  bare  subsistence,  and  to  bestow  as  largess  in 
different  ways  the  requisite  balance.  Some  ministers,  I 
thought,  were  quite  willing  thus  to  receive  their  allowance, 
and  seemed  to  feel  that  it  helped  to  encourage  kind  and 
generous  dispositions  in  their  people.  I  had  my  own 
thoughts  on  the  matter,  and  drew  different  conclusions  as 
to  the  effect  on  the  pastor  as  well  as  the  people.  Per 
haps  the  sensibilities  of  such  ministers  and  their  families 
may  not  have  been  as  keen  as  most  others,  or  from  habit 
been  blunted,  for  in  some  cases  I  have  witnessed  much 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  59 

suffering  from  the  mortification  of  justifiable  pride  in  the 
humiliating  manner  that  those  offerings  of  benevolence,  if 
you  can  call  them  so,  have  been  prosecuted. 

"  Two  instances  have  made  a  deep  and  lasting  impres 
sion  on  my  mind,  and  I  will  relate  them. 

"  One  was  that  of  a  family  in  which,  previous  to  my  be 
coming  a  member  of  it,  I  was  somewhat  intimate.  The 
gentleman  himself  was  not,  and  probably  never  would  be 
a  popular  minister ;  his  preliminary  course  had  been  as 
short  as  could,  with  any  prospect  of  success,  enable  a  man 
of  superior  talents,  and  robust  health  to  meet  the  demands 
of  his  situation,  and  he  was  not  a  man  of  more  than  or 
dinary  capacity,  nor  did  he  enjoy  firm  health.  He  mar 
ried  and  was  settled  as  a  pastor.  •  At  first,  as  in  most  cases, 
quite  an  amount  of  interest  was  manifested  —  great  at 
tention  was  paid  him  and  his  lady,  and  his  house  was  in 
part  furnished  by  the  gratuities  of  his  people.  Whether 
his  family  was  as  prudent  in  outlay  as  might  have  been,  I 
cannot  say,  but  as  far  as  I  could  observe,  there  was  no 
waste,  and  no  disposition  to  extravagance.  They  lived 
barely  in  respectability.  But  I  know  there  was  a  con 
stant  dearth  of  means  to  provide  what  seemed  to  be  the 
necessaries  of  life,  and  I  often  felt  pained  to  notice  the 
care  that  had  to  be  taken  with  the  outer  garments  in 
which  he  officiated  on  the  Sabbath,  that  they  might  at  least 
have  a  decent  appearance. 

"  During  my  stay  there,  it  had  become  in  some  way 
noised  among  the  people  that  there  was  a  necessity  for 
aid,  and  some  of  the  leading  ladies  proposed  a  donation 
party,  and  a  donation  party  was  of  course  got  up,  and  in 
order  to  see  how  it  worked,  I  remained  that  evening,  and 
assisted,  as  far  as  I  could,  in  relieving  both  the  pastor  and 
his  wife  from  the  trouble  of  waiting  upon  so  many  peo 
ple.  It  had  been  a  fatiguing  day  to  both  of  them  as  well 
as  the  other  members  of  the  family,  for  the  house  had  to 
be  disarranged  in  its  ordinary  form,  and  one  bed  and  bed 
stead  had  to  be  removed,  that  the  room  might  better  sub 
serve  the  purpose  for  which  it  was  needed.  There  was 
also  more  than  ordinary  care  to  be  taken  that  everything 
throughout  the  house  should  be  in  order,  for  as  the  house 
was  to  be  thrown  open  to  the  public,  the  public  would  be 


60  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

apt  to  pry  more  or  less  into  its  nooks  and  corners.  I  no 
ticed  through  the  day  that  the  lady  looked  rather  sad,  and 
in  that  respect  the  opposite  of  her  husband.  He,  poor 
man,  no  doubt  elated  with  the  prospect  of  relief  from  pre 
sent  demands  upon  an  empty  purse,  and  of  having  that 
replenished  too,  wore  quite  a  lively  expression  on  his 
countenance,  and  went  about  with  alacrity,  assisting  all  in 
his  power  to  help  forward  the  arrangments.  I  had  known 

Mrs.  G ,  we  will   for   convenience   call   her  by  that 

name,  before  she  was  married.  Her  family  was  highly  re 
spectable,  bnt  the  parents  not  in  a  situation  to  give  her  a 
large  setting  out ;  they  did  what  they  could,  and  with,  as 
I  have  said,  the  aid  afforded  by  the  people  in  furnishing 
part  of  the  house,  it  was  well  supplied  with  good  and 

necessary   furniture.      Mrs.  G- however,  had   never 

known  what  it  was  to  be  straitened  ;  she  was  lovely  iii 
appearance  and  in  character,  and  might  no  doubt  have  se 
lected  from  among  her  suitors  some  one  who  could  have 
placed  her  in  circumstances  of  independence,  but  Mr. 

G won  her  heart  and  gave  his  own  in  return,  but  that 

was  all  he  had  to  give  —  in  fact  when  he  married  he  was 
still  deeply  in  debt  for  his  education." 
"  Do  you  not  think  that  is  wrong,  sir  ?  " 
"To  what  do  you  allude,  brother  Bellows  ?" 
"  Why,  that  a  minister  should  marry  white  in  debt  for 
his  education.    What  chance  has  he  after  he  is  married 
and  settled,  with  the  salaries  they  are  generally  allowed, 
to  pay  up  arrearages.     It  is  as  much  as  they  can  do  in 
most  cases  barely  to  live." 

"  It  does  not  seem  right  to  me,  but  those  who  do  so  no 
doubt  anticipate  some  means  of  accomplishing  it,  or  they 
would  not  venture  such  an  injustice.  I  look  upon  it  as 
wrong  for  any  man  to  run  in  debt,  unless  he  has  at  least 
very  probable  means  in  reversion  wherewith  it  may  be  li 
quidated.  A  man  in  business  may  indeed,  for  some  years,  be 
indebted  for  much  of  the  capital  on  which  he  works ;  but 
if  he  be  an  honest  man,  those  who  loan  him  are  fully 
aware  of  his  circumstances  and  of  their  own  risks  for 
which,  in  many  cases,  a  compensation  is  also  paid  ;  but 
debt,  under  any  circumstances,  is  to  my  mind  a  burden. 
A  man  is  not  a  free  man  —  his  manliness  is  injured  by  it, 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  61 

and  for  a  minister  to  have  such  a  weight  upon  his  mind, 
to  have  such  a  spectre  to  haunt  him  in  his  study  or  his  • 
pulpit  —  to  be  obliged  to  feel  that  he  owes  any  man  but 
that  love  which  his  fellow  likewise  owes  to  him  —  is  a  sit 
uation  no  sane  man  ought  to  throw  himself  into.  But  to 
go  on  with  my  story.  Towards  evening  the  company  be 
gan  to  assemble,  bringing  along  their  bags,  baskets  and 
bundles.  These  contained  various  articles  for  use  in  a 
family,  with  quite  a  large  proportion  of  cake  and  biscuit, 
and  such  other  knick-knacks  as  were  to  furnish  a  table — for 
the  company  were  to  enjoy  a  feast  together,  as  well  as  to 
comfort  the  hearts  of  their  pastor  and  his  family  by  their 

donation.     Mrs.  G did  not  anticipate  this  part  of  the 

arrangement  —  in  fact  she  was  a  novice  in  such  matters, 
and  this  was  her  first  introduction  to  donation  parties.  It 
took  her  therefore  by  surprise,  as  she  entered  'her  eating 
apartment,  to  find  all  the  tables  gathered  and  stretched 
out  to  make  as  large  a  surface  as  possible." 

" '  Oh,  Mrs.  G — = — ,'  said  a  sprightly  young  lady,  '  we 
have  just  been  looking  for  you  —  where  shall  we  find  your 
table  cloths  —  we  shall  probably  want  several  of  them.' 

"Mrs. ,  was  somewhat  confused  —  first,  by  the  pert 

manner  of  the  girl,  and  then  by  the  unexpected  demand. 
She  had  table  cloths  enough  to  cover  all  the  tables,  but 
some  of  them  had  been  used,  and  would  not  answer  as 
mates  to  those  which  were  clean,  and  she  was  obliged  to 
state  the  difficulty. 

"'  Oh,  Avell,'  said  another  lady, 'it  does  not  matter  — 

here  Kate,  you  run  to  Mrs.  L ,  in  the  neighborhood, 

and  ask  her  for  her  largest  dinner  cloth  — she  has  plenty, 
I  know.' 

"  As  Mrs.  G found  that  for  the  time  being,  her 

place  as  mistress  of  her  own  house  had  been  usurped,  and 
not  feeling  quite  reconciled  to  the  fact,  yet  afraid  to  man 
ifest  any  displeasure,  lest  the  harmony  of  the  meeting 
should  be  destroyed,  gently  submitted  —  or  submitted 
with  as  good  grace  as  possible,  and  stood  a  sad  spectator 
of  the  doings.  Her  closets  were  entered,  and  their  con 
tents  brought  forth  —  crockery  and  glass  ware  passing 
through  the  hands  of  thoughtless,  laughing  girls,  and  so 
alarmingly  jingling  together,  it  seemed  miraculous  that 


62  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

the  most  of  them  did  not  break  in  the  encounter.  In  the 
meantime  Miss  Kate  comes  in,  out  of  breath,  and  calls 
out, 

"'Mrs.  L says  her  large  table  cloths  are  in  the  wash 

and  the  small  ones  in  use.' 

" '  Dear  me,'  exclaims  another,  '  strange  enough  that 
there  ain't  clean  table  linen  enough  in  the  neighborhood 

to  cover  a  few  tables  —  how  is  it,  Mrs.  G ,  are  your 

cloths  very  dirty? ' 

"  '  They  are  not  very  dirty,  but  are  somewhat  soiled.' 

" '  Do  let  us  have  them  —  we  will  turn  them  or  cover 
up  the  spots.' 

"  The  soiled  cloths  were  at  length  produced,  and  the  ta 
ble  loaded  and  covered  with  a  bountiful  variety.  But  it 
appeared  that  the  guests  were  also  bountifully  supplied 
with  an  appetite,  and  as  quite  a  large  proportion  of  those 
present  was  made  up  of  the  boys  and  girls  of  the  age 
when  cake  and  good  things  generally  have  a  relish  —  it 
was  surprising  how  few  articles  of  any  value  were  left  af 
ter  the  feast  was  over. 

"  The  exercises  of  the  evening  were  various  —  a  good 
deal  of  running  about  was  accomplished,  and  the  young 
people  getting  into  one  of  the  upper  room,  carried  on  a 
romp  that  occasionally  jarred  the  whole  house,  and  must 
have  jarred  harshly  the  feeling  of  its  sensitive  mistress, 
whose  ideas  of  propriety  were  not  at  all  in  harmony  with 
those  who  had  taken  possession  of  the  premises. 

"  The  most  trying  part  of  the  ceremonies  of  the  eve 
ning,  however,  was  the  passing  of  the  hat." 

"  What  was  the  object  of  that  ?  "  suddenly  exclaimed 
both  gentlemen. 

"  The  object  no  doubt  was  a  good  one ;  it  was  to  col 
lect  money  for  the  use  of  the  pastor  from  those  who  had 
come  there  and  perhaps  not  brought  along  their  bonus, 
and  who  might  otherwise  slip  off  after  having  had  a  good 
time,  and  without  contributing  anything.  This  method 
of  collecting  money  might  have  done,  although  disgust 
ing  at  best,  if  it  had  been  confined  to  such  parts  of  the 
house  where  none  but  strangers  were  present,  but  when  I 
saw  it  passing  round  in  the  room  where  the  pastor  and 
his  wife  were  seated,  and  even  handed  to  those  who  were 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  63 

sitting  by  their  side,  and  when  I  saw  the  deep  flush  that 
mantled  the  cheeks  of  that  lovely  woman,  and  noticed  the 
restlessness  which  agitated  her  frame  —  it  occurred  to  me 
that  if  the  people  had  wished  to  pain  and  mortify  a  sen 
sitive  woman,  and  that  lady  their  pastor's  wife,  they  could 
not  have  devised  a  more  effective  plan,  than  the  pro 
gramme  of  that  evening. 

"After  the  company  had  retired,  as  I  was  walking 
through  the  rooms  below,  to  satisfy  my  curiosity  as  to  the 
amount  of  damage  sustained  in  the  hurly  burly,  for  I  felt 
very  sure,  that  no  decent  furniture  could  have  passed 
through  such  an  ordeal  without  showing  the  marks,  I 

found  in  a  small  side  room,  Mrs.  G ,  alone  by  herself, 

seated  in  a  rocking  chair,  moving  it  rapidly,  and  her  face 
covered.  I  was  about  to  retire  when  she  called  to  me : 

" '  Come  in,  Robert.'  We  had  been  acquainted  from  her 
childhood,  and  she  was  then  but  a  few  years  my  junior. 

"  I  came  at  her  request,  and  taking  my  seat  near  to  her 
said,  '  you  must  be  very  tired  after  the  scenes  of  this  day.' 

" '  Oh,'  she  replied,  '  I  am  almost  tired  of  life,  I  am  heart 
sick,'  and  immediately  burst  into  tears,  sobbing  with  the 
agony  that  racked  her  feelings,  exclaiming  at  last, 

" '  Never  did  I  think  that  when  I  became  a  minister's 
wife,  I  must  be  placed  in  the  attitude  of  a  beggar.  Oh, 
Robert,  if  you"  go  into  the  ministry,  never  marry.  I  en 
treat  of  you  never  to  place  a  lady  in  the  situation  you 
have  seen  me  placed  this  evening.' 

"  Now,  brethren,  I  leave  you  to  guess  the  answer  I  re 
turned  to  her,  and  let  your  own  hearts  say  what  would 
have  been  your  reply." 

"Mine  would  have  been  a  pretty  short  and  decided 
one,"  answered  Mr.  Graham.  "  Never!  never  I " 

"Never  what,  brother  Graham!"  said  Mr.  Bellows. 
"  Never  to  marry  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  by  no  means  —  not  that  —  but  if  I  were  a 
minister,  I  would  never  allow  my  wife  to  be  exposed  to 
such  humiliation." 

"  Nor  I  either,"  said  Mr.  Bellows.  "  It  is  taking  the 
very  manhood  out  of  a  man  thus  to  treat  him  —  turning 
the  honorable  office  of  the  pastorate  into  that  of  a  beg 
ging  friar  —  but  why  should  it  be  so,  Mr.  Ransom  ?  " 


64  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  That  is  a  serious  question,  brother  Bellows.  Sure 
enough,  why  should  it  be  so ! "  The  pastoral  office  is  a 
necessity  —  communities,  nor  families,  nor  individuals  can 
do  without  it.  What  would  your  farms  in  this  town  be 
woi'th,  if  the  church  should  be  leveled  to  the  earth,  and 
the  voice  of  the  preacher  heard  no  more,  nor  the  ordinan 
ces  of  religion  again  administered  ?  How  many  years 
would  it  be  ere  the  dark  pall  of  semi-heathenism  would 
spread  its  gloom  around  you  and  your  civilization.  For 
a  moment  look  at  the  condition  of  two  or  three  families 
in  your  midst ;  for  some  cause  unbeknown  to  me,  they  ab 
sent  themselves  from  all  religious  services,  and  have  done 
so  for  years.  They  were  once  respectable,  it  is  said,  al 
though  it  is  hard  to  believe  it  could  have  been  so.  What 
are  they  now  ?  Who  among  you  associates  with  them  ? 
Would  you  purchase  a  farm  adjoining  to  either  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  would  not  live  on  it  if  given  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Bel 
lows. 

"  And  your  whole  town,  without  a  settled  ministry, 
would  in  ten  years  depreciate  in  value.  Strangers  of  re 
spectability  would  not  settle  among  you  —  your  children, 
if  not  besotted  and  robbed  of  all  ambition  and  enterprise 
would  seek  other  homes,  where  the  Sabbath  bell  would 
collect  a  decent  audience  in  the  house  of  God.  No,  breth 
ren,  the  settled  pastor  for  a  longer  or  shorter  period,  is  an 
absolute  necessity  —  and  why  should  not  his  respectable 
support  be  so  to  ?  Why  should  a  scanty  pittance  be  dok 
ed  out  for  his  bare  subsistence,  and  on  an  emergency,  the 
hat  carried  round  begging  for  sixpences  and  shillings, 
while  he  stands  meanly  looking  on  to  see  how  much  char 
ity  his  people  have,  or  how  highly  they  value  his  services. 
It  is  a  degradation  of  the  holy  office  —  a  crying  shame  to 
those  religious  societies  which  allow  the  nuisance. 

"But,  brethren,  I  have  one  more  instance  to  bring  be 
fore  you,  and  it  has  a  nearer  bearing  upon  our  immediate 
subject. 

"  In  one  of  the  ministerial  families  where  I  spent  seve 
ral  months,  I  had  the  opportunity  to  observe  the  effect 
upon  the  family,  and  the  people  too,  of  the  fact  that  very 
much  of  the  furniture  in  the  parsonage  had  been  provided 
by  the  contributions  of  some  of  the  more  wealthy  mem- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  65 

bers  of  the  society.  The  salary,  in  this  case,  was  a  fair 
one  for  a  small  family,  but  a  number  of  children  had  of 
course  increased  the  demands  upon  it.  A  people  with  a 
just  sense  of  right,  would  have  considered  that  a  salary 
suitable  for  a  man  and  his  wife  with  one  or  two  children, 
might  not  be  sufficient  to  provide  for  eight  children,  with 
the  necessary  outlay  for  clothes  and  schooling  —  the  lat 
ter  too,  an  absolute  need,  to  which  no  parent,  dependent 
as  a  minister  is  on  a  mere  salary,  can  possibly  be  indiffer 
ent  —  upon  the  education  of  his  children  their  future  live 
lihood  depends.  He  has  no  lands  to  distribute  to  his  sons 
as  farmers  have ;  he  has  no  trade  in  mercantile  life  by 
means  of  which  he  can  establish  them.  They  must  go 
forth  into  the  world  with  only  such  power  to  make  a  liv 
ing,  as  their  education  may  afford  them.  This  case  was 
one  which  an  honorable  people  would  have  considered, 
and  an  addition  made  to  the  salary  corresponding  to  the 
additional  demand  upon  it.  But  this  was  not  done  ;  some 
few  felt  the  wrong  and  endeavored  to  supply  the  deficien 
cy  by  privately  contributing  to  the  necessities  of  the  fam 
ily.  Some  would  give  to  the  minister's  lady  second  hand 
garments  for  the  daughters,  some  of  which  at  times  she 
gladly  appropriated  to  her  own  use.  The  minister  him 
self,  too,  was  often  clothed  in  the  same  way.  The  effect 
was  very  evident ;  it  created  an  obsequiousness  on  the 
part  of  the  pastor  and  all  his  family  towards  those  upon 
whose  bounty  they  depended  for  so  many  comforts,  per 
fectly  inconsistent  as  I  view  it,  with  that  true  indepen 
dence  of  any  man's  favor,  or  which  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel  should  feel.  His  commission  is  from  above,  and 
all  men  are  to  stand,  in  one  grand  particular,  before  him  or 
to  his  view  on  a  level  —  circumstantial  differences  he  has 
nothing  to  do  with.  I  noticed  likewise,  that  the  effect  on 
the  minds  of  those  who  were  thus  helpful  in  their  contri 
butions  of  money  or  other  articles,  was  not  happy ;  they 
were  good  people  no  doubt,  but  it  requires  considerable 
grace  to  be  a  benefactoi*.  A  sense  of  one's  importance  is 
too  apt  to  show  itself —  a  patronizing  manner  is  apt  to 
crop  out.  And  it  did  manifest  itself  on  several  occasions 
that  came  under  my  observation.  The  children  would 
come  home  at  times  sadly  mortified  because  Mrs.  S 


66  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

had  asked  one  of  them  about  the  dress  she  had  on, '  and 
if  she  wore  it  so  in  common  every  day,'  or  some  school 
companion  had  asked  another  '  if  the  dress  she  had  on 
was  not  one  which  the  Lauries'  had  given  her,  it  was  ex 
actly  like  one  that  Mary  Laurie  used  to  wear.' 

"  There  was  a  donation  party  here,  too,  and  being  re 
quested  to  join  in  the  pleasures  of  the  evening,  I  consent 
ed.  Here,  the  lady  being  accustomed  to  such  scenes,  was 
not  so  affected  by  the  fact  of  giving  up  her  house  for  a 
rendezvous  for  the  evening,  as  the  inexperienced  Mrs. 
G .  She  seemed  to  enjoy  the  scene  —  it  was  confu 
sion,  worse  confounded  —  the  hat  was  not  carried  round, 
but  instead  thereof,  each  one  who  had  anything' to  give 
would  hand  it  directly  to  the  pastor  or  his  lady,  who  re 
mained  seated  for  that  purpose.  One  individual  who 
wished  to  donate  to  his  pastor  one  dollar,  but  not  having, 
as  he  found,  any  thing  smaller  than  a  two,  handed  it  say 
ing  : 

"  'Mr.  P ,  can  you  change  this  bill  for  me  by  giving 

me  a  one  in  return  ? ' 

"  The  minister  smiled  and  bowed,  and  thanked  him  as 
he  with  quite  a  business  air,  handed  back  the  requisite 
change.  I  perceived  that  there  were  no  feelings  on  the 
part  of  either  the  pastor  or  his  lady,  but  that  all  was 
right,  and  as  it  should  be,  and  therefore  my  sympathy  for 
them  could  not  be  waked  up ;  but  I  soon  found  that  their 
children,  who  were  old  enough  to  understand  the  propri 
ety  of  things  did  not  view  the  matter  in  the  same  light 
as  the  parents  did.  After  the  meeting  had  dispersed  two 
of  the  daughters  were  seated  near  the  fire  in  the  princi 
pal  room,  one  of  them  sixteen  and  the  other  about  twelve 
years  of  age.  As  I  came  into  the  room  the  youngest  ask 
ed  me: 

" '  Mr.  Ransom,  how  much  do  you  think  pa  and  ma  got 
to-night? ' 

'_'  I  was  about  to  make  some  reply,  when  the  elder  sister 
quickly  said, 

"'Julia,  don't  —  please  don't  bring  up  this  hateful  busi 
ness.  I  have  felt  mortified  enough  all  the  evening.  I 
wish  we  could  live  on  bread  and  water  —  I  wish  there 
were  no  carpets  on  the  floors,  and  that  we  had  plain  wood- 


LOOKING   AKOTJND.  67 

en  benches  to  sit  on,  and  plain  boards  for  a  table  to  eat 
from  —  anything  would  be  better  than  to  be  obliged  to 
feel  that  you  are  using  furniture  which  has  been  given  to 
you  by  strangers,  or  eating  food  4hat  is  handed  to  you  as 
charity.' 

" '  What  is  the  trouble,  Miss  Mary  ? '  I  replied. 

" '  I  think  there  is  cause  of  trouble  enough,  and  I  hope, 
Mr.  Ransom,  as  you  say  you  are  going  to  be  a  minister, 
that  when  you  come  to  settle,  you  will  buy  your  own  fur 
niture,  if  it  is  no  better  than  Robinson  Crusoe  had,  and 
not  let  the  people  put  into  it  even  an  old  brass  candle 
stick.' 

" '  Why  not,  Miss  Mary  ? ' 

" '  If  you  had  heard  all  the  mortifying  remarks  I  have 
this  evening — how  the  carpets  had  been  worn — how 
dingy  every  thing  looked  —  that  the  chairs  wanted  a  coat 
of  paint,  and  even  one  woman  said  —  and  she  knew  I 
could  hear  it,  too  —  "  that  if  she  had  thought  things  were 
not  to  be  taken  care  of  she  would  never  have  opened  her 
purse."  And  then  poor  little  Charlie  happened  to  tell  a 
boy,  who  was  standing  on  one  of  the  cane-bottomed 
chairs,  to  get  down  or  he  would  break  the  chair,  "  what  if 
I  do  ?  "  was  the  answer ;  "  My  father  helped  buy  them." 
Mr.  Ransom,  I  would  not  marry  a  minister  unless  he  was 
rich,  or  I  was.  Its  the  hatefullest  thing  to  be  dependent 
on  a  people.  Talk  about  slavery !  We  are  slaves  of  the 
worst  kind,  and  yet  have  to  bear  every  insult  with  a  smil 
ing  countenance.' 

"Now  gentlemen,  I  have  given  you  a  few  items  of  my 
experience,  and  as  I  am  able  to  furnish  my  house  in  a 
plain,  but  respectable  manner,  from  means  that  I  have 
honestly  earned,  do  you  not  think  I  shall  be  happier  and 
more  like  a  man  to  know  when  I  place  her  whom  I  love 
at  its  head,  that  no  one  can  have  a  right  to  dictate  to  her 
as  to  the  way  in  which  it  is  used  ?  " 

"  I  must  heartily  agree  with  that  young  lady.  I  would'nt 
receive  as  a  gift  even  an  '  old  candlestick.'  " 

"  And  I  join  brother  Bellows  in  that  feeling.  A  minis 
ter  should  have  a  home  as  much  his  own,  and  as  sacred 
from  interference  by  others,  as,  other  men." 

"  Then  Mr.  Graham,  you  have  touched  the  very  point 


68  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

x 

on  which  I  have  determined  to  stand.  I  never  meant 
when  I  entered  the  ministry  to  renounce  my  manhood. 
I  am  willing  to  give  up  my  own  selfish  interest.  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  to  endure  self-denial,  as  a  good  soldier 
of  Christ  Jesus,  I  must  expect ;  and  if  it  could  be  made 
plain  to  me  that,  to  serve  my  master,  I  must  go  round 
daily  with  my  hat  in  hand  and  beg  my  bread,  I  think  I 
should  be  willing  to  do  it;  but  as  all  the  injunctions  of 
scripture  tend  to  an  opposite  direction,  and  we  are  exhort 
ed  to  eat  our  own  bread,  it  seems  strange  to  me  that  the 
idea  should  be  so  universal,  that  a  minister  may  have  the 
bread  of  the  mendicant  offered  to  him,  and  he  must  take 
it  thankfully." 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  you  have  doubtless  anticipated  my 
answer  to  the  request  of  the  ladies.  Tell  them,  however, 
that  I  am  glad  it  was  in  their  heart  thus  to  manifest 
their  kind  feelings,  and  that  if  ever  they  fail  to  receive 
the  most  cordial  welcome  to  the  hospitalities  of  the  par 
sonage  while  I  may 'occupy  it,  I  will  be  willing  as  a  pun 
ishment  to  let  them  fm-nish  the  whole  of  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bellows,  as  he  and  Graham  were  walk 
ing  home,  "  I  have  received  some  new  ideas  about  minis 
ters  and  people,  too.  Mr.  Random  is  right.  Why  should 
he,  because  he  is  a  preacher  of  the  gospel,  and  the  pastor 
of  a  people,  give  up  his  rights  as  an  honorable  man,  as  a 
husband  and  a  father  ?  How  would  you  and  I  feel  to  be 
living  upon  the  charity  of  the  public,  and  feel  bound  to 
court  the  favor  of  every  man  of  wealth  or  ability  in  the 
place,  and  have  our  childi'en  growing  up  with  an  obse 
quious  manner,  and  subject  to  the  mortifying  intei-ferenee 
of  strangers  with  their  domestic  arrangements  ?  " 

"It  would  not  suit  you  or  me  very  well,  but  ministers 
in  general  don't  seem  to  mind  it." 

"  Perhaps  they  mind  it  more  than  the  people  imagine. 
But  a  great  many  of  them  act  so  heedlessly.  They  get 
married  without  a  cent  in  their  pockets  to  begin  with,  and 
are  often  not  half  educated,  and  have  to  dig  away  at  mak 
ing  sermons  out  of  slender  materials,  and  very  soon  the 
people  have  heard  all  they  know,  and  get  indifferent  to 
their  preaching,  and  they  see  it,  and  are  glad  to  hang  on 
to  their  situations  under  any  circumstances,  no  matter  how 
humiliating." 


LOOKING    AROWXD.  69 

"  I  am  glad  for  my  part  Bellows,  that  Mr.  Ransom  has 
come  out  so  plainly  at  the  outset.  He  means  to  stand  on 
an  independent  platform,  and  we  shall  all  like  him  the 
better  for  it,  after  this  breeze  has  blown  over,  but  it  will 
make  a  breeze  among  the  women." 

"  I  never  encoui-aged  the  thing,  Graham,  that  Mattie 
can  tell  you  ;  for  in  my  first  conversation  with  Mr.  Ran 
som  about  his  settlement,  I  found  that  he  was  averse  to 
have  any  thing  said  or  done  about  raising  a  larger  salary 
for  him  by  outside  contributions.  Whatever  he  receives 
must  come  through  the  regular  channel." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  about  what  shall  be  done  with 
the  money  the  ladies  have  raised ;  they  will  want  to  do 
something  with  it.  How  Avould  it  answer  to  propose  to 
them  to  use  it  in  buying  books  as  the  foundation  for  a 
good  library  among  us?  We  need  one  very  much." 

"Just  the  very  thing,  Graham,  I  am  glad  you  thought 
of  it.  The  young  people  want  books,  what  few  I  have 
are  constantly  in  use.  Since  Mr.  Ransom  has  had  those 
meetings  of  young  people  at  his  house,  he  has  so  stimula 
ted  them  to  read  and  inform  themselves,  that  all  they 
want  now  is  access  to  a  good  library,  and  let  us  try  to  get 
as  much  more  among  the  men  as  our  ladies  have  raised, 
and  we  will  have  a  fair  library  at  once." 

"  And  Mr.  Ransom  will  be  the  very  man  to  select  the 
books.  He  knows  just  what  works  the  people  need.  It 
will  also  manifest  to  him  how  much  we  all  prize  his  efforts 
with  our  young  people.  If  you  and  I,  Bellows,  had  had 
such  a  minister  when  we  were  boys,  we  would  know  more 
than  we  do  now,  and  be  better  able  to  train  our  own  boys 
and  girls.  I  tell  you  what,  Bellows,  there  is  no  telling 
the  good  that  man  is  doing  among  our  young  people ;  he 
has  somehow  got  their  confidence  and  love.  Everything 
he  says  is  gospel  with  them." 

"  It  is  easy  to  see,  Graham,  how  that  has  worked.  In 
the  first  place,  they  see  he  is  interested  for  their  improve 
ment,  and  that  you  know  will  take  hold  of  the  heart  of 
any  young  person  quicker  than  anything  else.  And  then 
they  see  he  knows  something  besides  theology.  His 
mind  seems  filled  with  knowledge ;  they  can  look  up  to 
him  as  one  who  is  able  to  teach  them,  and  to  tell  them 


70  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

what  they  need  to  know  in  order  to  make  them  wise  and 
useful." 

"  Yes,  and  this  power  over  their  respect,  gives  great 
weight  to  the  few  words  he  drops  to  them  on  the  subject 
of  religion.  The  fact  is,  he  is  leading  them  along  in  the 
way,  that  if  I  do  not  mistake,  will  in  a  few  years  make  a 
great  change  in  the  whole  face  of  society  here.  I  tell 
you,  Bellows,  Mr.  Ransom  has  been  wise  in  not  taking  as 
he  calls  it, '  a  short  cut  to  the  pulpit.'  He  has  been  along 
while  in  preparation,  but  he  is  a  master  workman,  he  un 
derstands  his  trade." 

.Messrs.  Graham  and  Bellows  had  more  difficulty  than 
they  anticipated  in  quieting  the  disappointed  feelings  of 
the  ladies.     It  was  hard  work  to  make  them  comprehend 
the  reasons  which  induced  their  minister  to  decline  their 
offers.     "  It  was  an  unheard-of  thing !     He  was  proud, 
cold  blooded !     He  would  never  gain  the  love  of  the  peo 
ple  !     If  the  parsonage  was  too  good  to  be  filled  up  a  lit 
tle  decently,  it  was  too  good  for  them  to  visit  it.     Other 
ministers  were  willing  to  throw  themselves  upon  the  kind 
feelings  of  their  people  ;  why  should  he  set  himself  up  to 
be  singular  ?     It  was  all  done  to  touch  them  on  account 
of  the  small  salary  they  were  to  pay  him.     He  meant  by 
furnishing  his  house  merely  to  let  strangers  see  what  peo 
ple  he  had  ! "    All  this  was  said  at  the  meeting  of  ladies 
who  had  subscribed  to  the  sum  raised.     Messrs.  Graham 
and  Bellows,  who  were  invited  to  be  present,  sat  quietly 
listening  to  these  outbreaks  of  disappointment,  knowing 
that  until  they  "  had  said  their  say,"  and  the  breeze  had 
blown  off  its  suppressed  wrath,  there  would  be  little  use 
in  trying  to  stop  its  fury.     Women,  they  knew, had  quick 
feelings  and  strong  feelings,  but  give  them  a  chance  to  ex 
press  them  and  let  them  off,  and  the  good  creatures  be 
come  relieved  and  are  ready  to  be  made  happy  again.     It 
took  a  great  deal  of  talking  and  explanation,  however,  on 
the  part  of  the  gentlemen.     By  degrees  the  storm  lulled, 
and  when  the  proposition  was  made  by  them  to  raise  as 
much  among  the  gentlemen,  and  with  the  united  fund  to 
commence  a  public  library,  the  idea  was  received  most  fa 
vorably  by  some  of  the  leading  ladies,  and  soon  met  with 
the  views  of  the  rest,  and  the  meeting  which  threatened 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  71 

no  little  difficulty,  broke  up  in  harmony.  One  thing,  how 
ever,  perhaps,  did  as  much  to  calm  the  disturbed  elements 
as  any  remarks  from  the  gentlemen  by  way  of  advice  and 
counsel,  and  that  was,  a  message  from  Mr.  Ransom,  which 
they  were  requested  to  give  to  the  ladies, —  "  That  he 
would  be  very  thankful  for  their  assistance  in  arranging 
his  furniture,  sewing  carpets,  etc.,  and  placing  his  estab 
lishment  in  a  condition  to  receive  its  mistress."  A  smile 
passed  over  the  face  of  every  lady  —  all  were  ready,  and 
by  mutual  agreement  the  morrow  was  selected  for  their 
labor  of  love. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Randolph  Herbert  parted  from  Mr.  Ransom  with  his 
mind  relieved  of  a  terrible  burden.  His  little  Willie  was 
safe,  and  in  good  hands ;  it  was  indeed  a  severe  trial  to 
him  that  the  child  on  whom  his  heart  doted,  was  a  de 
pendent  on  comparative  strangers,  yet  even  here  was  an 
alleviation  in  the  thought  that  there  seemed  to  be  on  the 
part  of  him  who  had  been  his  deliverer  a  sincere  regard 
for  the  boy  and  a  desire  to  keep  him ;  in  fact,  the  request 
had  been  presented  as  a  favor  to  those  who  were  ready  to 
adopt  him.  But  all  this  could  not  take  away  the  sting 
which  the  better  remembrance  of  his  hasty  conduct  caus 
ed  his  heart  to  suffer.  It  was  a  continual  goad  within  — 
often  causing  him  to  cry  out,  "  Oh  Lord,'  lay  not  this  sin 
to  my  charge  —  deal  not  with  me  as  I  deserve."  The  re 
lief  which  he  had  experienced  had,  however,  a  salutary 
influence  in  softening  the  almost  indurated  condition  of 
his  feelings.  This  sad  state  had  been  most  aptly  express 
ed  in  his  utterance  of  grief  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Ran 
som.  "  The  heavens  over  him  were  brass  and  the  earth 
iron."  The  face  of  God  was  clouded,  and  wrath  seemed 
wrapped  about  him  as  a  thick  cloud.  Some  light  now 
was  breaking  through  the  darkness,  and  occasionally  his 
wounded  spirit  could  perceive  rays  of  mercy  lining  its 


72  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

gleam.  Not  long  after  the  scenes  described  in  a  former 
chapter,  a  gentleman  from  a  distance  called  upon  him  to 
make  inquiry  concerning  a  claim  which  Mr.  Herbert  held 
against  a  man  in  the  state  of  Ohio. 

"  I  wish  to  know,"  the  gentleman  said,  "  whether  you 
hold  any  paper  or  obligation  against  one  James  Reynolds 
formerly  of  Saugerties  in  this  State." 

"  I  do  hold  a  note  far  one  thousand  dollars  ;  it  has  been 
due  for  more  than  five  years ;  it  was  for  money  loaned 
him,  and  for  which  at  the  time  he  was  in  pressing  need. 
He  was  an  intimate  friend,  and  I  borrowed  the  funds  to 
accommodate  him.  He  wanted  the  money  only  for  a 
short  time.  He  was  a  clever  fellow,  and  I  firmly  believed 
-a  very  honest  man.  He  was,  however,  not  able  to  meet 
the  payments,  and  I  was  obliged  in  consequence  to  mort 
gage  my  property  in  order  to  refund  the  money  to  the 
person  from  whom  I  borrowed  it,  and  that,  with  other 
claims  and  losses,  finally  compelled  me  to  sell  everything 
I  possessed." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,  in  your  belief  that  Mr.  Reynolds 
was  an  honest  man.  He  lamented  long  his  inability  to 
return  you  this  money,  but  fortune  was  against  him.  Just 
before  his  death,  however,  a  rise  took  place  in  property 
around  us;  he  had  purchased  quite  a  tract  on  speculation. 
He  died  by  a  lingering  disease,  the  consumption.  Near 
his  last  days,  he  saw  plainly  that  there  was  a  prospect 
that  his  speculation  would  turn  out  well  —  enable  him  to 
die  owing  no  man  anything,  and  probably  leaving  a  com 
petence  to  his  family.  One  debt,  however,  beyond  all 
others  he  felt  deeply  anxious  should  be  cancelled  and  as 
soon  as  possible  after  his  death.  He  knew,  he  said,  that 
the  obligation  had  been  a  cause  of  suffering  to  the  indi 
vidual  who  had  loaned  him  the  money,  but  still  that  pei- 
son  had  never  used  any  means  to  harrass  him,  nor  even 
written  a  harsh  word  when  urging  if  possible  that  his 
claim  should  be  paid.  And  he  enjoined  upon  those  who 
were  to  have  the  charge  of  his  affairs,  to  hasten  matters  as 
fast  as  could  be,  and  to  see  to  it  that  Randolph  Herbert's 
claim  should  be  paid  among  the  very  first.  And  now, 
sir,  let  me  see  the  note." 

Mr.  Herbert  soon  produced  the  document  in  question. 


LOOKIKG   AROUND.  73 

"  Please  cast  up  the  interest  on  it,  Mr.  Herbert." 

"  I  do  not  wish  interest,  sir ;  the  principal  will  be  all 
sufficient  if  that  can  be  paid,  it  is  all  I  shall  ever  ask." 

"  But,  sir,  the  interest  is  as  much  your  due  as  the  prin 
cipal,  and  it  was  Mr.  Reynolds'  express  desire  that  thus  it 
should  be  paid." 

The  calculation  was  accordingly  made,  and  the  amount 
summed  up  nearly  fourteen  hundred  dollars.  The  gentle 
man  drew  forth  his  pocket  book,  laid  down  his  money, 
took  the  note  into  his  possession,  and  after  a  short  con 
versation  on  the  changes  and  chances  of  life,  and  of  busi 
ness  life  in  particular,  he  took  his  departure. 

For  a  while  Mr.  Herbert  sat  almost  stupefied  by  this 
sudden  and  unexpected  relief.  It  was  more  than  he  ever 
hoped  again  to  have  in  his  possession.  It  would  enable 
him  to  avoid,  if  properly  taken  care  of,  some  personal 
trials  that  had  been  most  grievous  to  bear  —  bonds  of  a 
nature  aggravating  almost  beyond  endurance,  were  as  by 
a  miracle  suddenly  burst  asunder,  a  weight  rolled  off 
from  his  oppressed  heart.  A  sense  of  freedom  stole  over 
his  mind,  the  joy  of  which  could  only  be  realized  by  one 
who  had  been  long  and  hopelessly  bound  beneath  a  galling 
yoke.  He  was  alone  in  a  room  exclusively  appropriated 
to  his  own  use  ;  gladly  would  he  have  called  his  wife  and 
communicated  to  her  his  good  tidings,  but  he  knew  there 
would  be  no  sympathy  with  his  joy,  and  more  than  prob 
able  the  information  would  only  tend  to  some  new  trial. 
Oh,  that  his  Willie  were  by  him !  how  he  would  draw 
him  to  his  heart,  and  how  they  would  rejoice  together 
over  this  manifestation  of  divine  goodness  !  Yes,  it  was 
indeed  a  token  of  divine  goodness,  and  now  his  heart  be 
gins  to  feel  those  kindly  emotions  toward  his  Heavenly 
Father,  to  which  for  years  he  had  been  a  stranger.  This 
was  a  gift  of  money,  a  gift  to  one  who  had  been  a  wan 
derer —  one  who  had  almost  denied  his  master  —  who  had 
tasted  the  heavenly  gift,  but  had  allowed  the  pleasures  of 
the  world  to  injure  his  devotion  to  duty  and  the  cause  of 
truth.  In  the  time  of  distress  and  sorrow  he  had  not 
cast  all  his  care  on  God,  and  gone  manfully  forward  to 
some  work  of  usefulness,  but  had  ventured  to  relieve  his 
present  need  by  a  device  neither  manly  or  just.  He  had 
4 


74  LOOKING   AROUND. 

pledged  himself  to  love  and  keep  one  whom  he  did  not 
respect,  and  for  whom  he  had  no  ability  to  provide.  He 
had  made  use  of  God's  holy  ordinance  of  marriage  for  a 
mean  and  selfish  end.  These  facts  had  been  pressing 
themselves  upon  his  notice,  as  every  new  trial  had  come 
upon  him  —  but  the  last,  the  loss  as  he  feared  of  his  Wil 
lie  —  had  -broken  down  every  barrier,  laid  open  his  con 
duct  clearly  to  his  own  vision,  and^  the  sight  had  filled 
him  with  dismay.  He  was  conscience  stricken.  Guilty, 
guilty,  was  his  plea,  but  th«re  was  no  tear  of  penitence  — 
no  going  back  to  him  from  whom  he  had  wandered  —  for 
the  throne  above  was  barred,  and  he  had  no  Father  there. 
"  The  heavens  over  him  were  brass  and  the  earth  iron." 
Still  there  was  a  yearning  for  those,  hopes  he  once  enjoy 
ed.  He  could  say,  "  My  heart  panteth  for  God,  for  the 
living  God." 

The  first  gleam  of  light  came  with  the  tidings  that  his 
son  was  safe.  There  was  a  loosening  of  the  bolts  and 
bars  of  his  prison  house.  He  could  see  a  little,  and  more 
and  more  daily  since  that  hour,  how  a  father  may  chasten 
but  his  wrath  be  turned  away;  and  as  that  blessed  truth 
unfolded  to  his  view  his  heart  softened  and  took  courage 
—  he  could  bear  the  stripes  if  he  could  only  truly  know 
they  were  inflicted  by  the  hand  of  love. 

And  now  this  second  mercy  come  to  him  as  though 
the  Heavens  had  opened  above  him,  and  a  messenger  had 
descended  with  a  token  in  his  hand  that  he  was  still  ac 
knowledged  as  a  son.  Providential  dispensations  cannot 
always  be  understood  nor  their  end  interpreted  by,  neav 
sighted,  feeble  man.  "  God  sendeth  his  rain  and  his  sun 
shine  on  the  evil  and  on  the  good."  The  wicked  often 
prospereth  while  the  righteous  are  smitten,  and  go  mourn 
ing  in  heaviness.  And  yet,  to  the  child  of  God,  who  has 
learned  to  scrutinize  the  dealings  of  providence,  and  to 
trace  the  leadings  of  the  Divine  hand,  there  is  often  a 
clear  view  of  the  cause  and  the  effect  which  others  can 
not  perceive.  He  can  see  the  reason  for  the  judgment, 
and  notice  the  mercy  mingled  with  it,  and  his  mouth  ut 
ters  no  complaint ;  it  was  not  a  chance  that  happened  to 
him  —  even  if  it  were  the  result  of  his  own  improvidence, 
still,  he  sees  back  of  that  an  overruling  power,  causing 


'*'. 

LOOKING   ABOUND.  75 

his  wisdom  fb  be  turned  into  foolishness  for  the  punish 
ment  of  his  transgressions,  or  for  the  weaning  his  confi 
dence  in  the  earthly  state,  and  fixing  it  more  steadfastly 
on  divine  care. 

The  effect  in  the  mind  of  Mr.  Herbert,  was  to  fill  it 
with  gratitude,  and  to  give  him  a  clearer  perception  of 
the  ways  of  God  with  man.  The  great  trial  of  his  life 
still  he  must  bear,  but  now  the  burden  was  not  so  griev 
ous,  and  although  no  hope  dawned  upon  him  in  refer 
ence  to  that  great  mistake  —  although  there  were  to  be 
for  him  no  sweet  communings  with  a  kindred  spirit  — 
no  enjoyment  of  that  tender  love  of  which  he  had  once 
tasted,  and  he  must  plod  along  to  his  journey's  end  with 
a  companion  by  his  side  whose  low  tastes  and  contract 
ed  views  allowed  no  spmpathy  between  them,  yet  he 
would  not  murmur  against  the  severe  infliction ;  he  had 
done  the  wrong,  and  was  alone  to  blame.  God  had  been 
merciful  and  granted  an  alleviation  from  some  of  the 
more  bitter  ingredients  of  the  cup.  He  saw  that  the 
trial  was  of  a  nature  not  to  be  removed  but  by  a  miracu 
lous  work  of  God's  spirit  which  he  had  no  reason  to  ex 
pect.  It  must  be  a  thorn  in  his  flesh  in  all  probability  dur 
ing  the  rest  of  his  journey,  but  that  was  no  evidence 
he  was  not  forgiven.  Paul  had  to  carry  a  thorn  which 
he  had  earnestly  prayed  to  be  taken  from  him,  but  the 
only  answer  he  received  was  that  "  he  should  have  grace 
to  bear  it." 

Hereafter  his  life  must  be  spent  in  the  discharge  of  his 
duty..  He  had  work  to  do  —  it  was  confined  to  a  narrow 
sphere — the  world  would  know  nothing  of  it,  but  it 
would  require  the  exercise  of  all  the  Christian  graces,  and 
to  show  them  forth  even  to  eyes  of  but  two  or  three, 
might  glorify  his  Father  in  heaven,  and  that  was  all  the 
stimulus  he  needed. 

The  following  letter  which  Mr.  Ransom  received,  writ 
ten  after  his  mind  had  become  settled  into  a  quiet  state, 
will  perhaps  best  unfold  his  present  views  and  feelings. 

"My  VERT  DEAR  SIR: — I  could  wish  you  were  by  me 
now,  that  I  might  enjoy  the  satisfaction  of  expressing  to 
you  personally,  the  great  benefit  I  have  derived  from  the 


76  LOOKING   AROUND. 

remarks  you  threw  out  in  the  course  of  our  conference 
together  on  the  ways  of  God  in  His  dealings  with  His 
creatures,  more  and  more  especially  with  His  true  chil 
dren.  A  little  light  opened  upon  me  at  that  time,  and  it 
has  been  growing  brighter  and  brighter  to  me  ever  since. 
I  have  indeed  departed  from  God  —  I  have  gone  sadly 
astray,  but  I  have  through  infinite  mercy  not  been  per 
mitted  to  lose  that  hankering  for  home,  which  I  now  firm 
ly  believe  to  be  an  earnest,  that  such  a  place  is  yet  reserv 
ed  for  me.  The  good  mercy  of  God  towards  me  in  deal 
ing  so  kindly  with  my  dear  Willie,  and  since  then  a  re 
newed  token  of  God's  goodness  towards  one  so  unworthy, 
has  caused  me  to  judge  that  my  trials  are  but  chastise 
ments,  and  that  the  rod  is  in  a  Father's  hand.  This  thought 
buoys  me  up  and  enables  me  with  comparative  cheerful 
ness  to  bear  the  trials  of  rny  lot.  I  find  that  the  peace 
of  God  in  the  heart  is  the  infallible  talisman,  whose 
charm  nullifies  evil,  and  throws  a  cheer  around  the  most 
gloomy  path. 

"  It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  task  for  me,  nor  do  I  believe 
it  will  be  very  agreeable  to  you,  that  I  now  proceed  to  ac 
complish  ;  but  on  some  accounts,  I  deem  it  right  and  prop 
er  that  I  should  unfold  to  you  those  secrets  of  my  life 
which  have  a  beai-ing  upon  our  present  relation  to  each 
other,  and  I  shall  do  it  with  all  the  confidence  of  a  broth 
er.  I  am  surrounded  with  obstacles  that  prevent  my  doing 
anything  in  the  great  work  of  life  beyond  that  of  stand 
ing  as  a  beacon,  to  warn  others  away  from  the  dangerous 
rocks  on  which  I  have  been  shipwrecked.  You,  as  a  min 
ister  of  the  gospel,  may  have  occasion  to  use  the  facts  I 
reveal,  for  the  benefit  of  many ;  and  as  the  friend  and 
guardian  of  my  dear  Willie,  may  feel  more  able  to  com 
prehend  what  lessons  would  be  useful  to  him,  that  he  may 
avoid  the  temptation  to  which  his  father  has  been  expos 
ed,  and  the  sad  condition  into  which  his  father  has  been 
placed. 

"In  my  days  of  boyhood,  the  thought  never  occurred 
to  me  that  I  was  ever  to  do  anything  by  way  of  obtain 
ing  a  livelihood,  and  from  circumstances  which  I  now  re 
call,  I  am  led  to  the  conclusion  that  my  father  too  openly 
encouraged  that  idea.  I  feel  very  sure  now,  that  it  would 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  77 

have  been  a  painful  thought  to  him,  that  I  should  feel 
there  could  possibly  be  need  for  any  future  exertions  on 
my  part  in  order  to  obtain  a  living.  I  do  not  wish  to 
charge  him  with  doing  or  feeling  wrong.  He  had  a  most 
affectionate  heart,  and  was  devoted  to  my  happiness;  and 
yet  I  cannot  but  think  it  was  a  failing,  and  one  most  dis 
astrous  in  its  consequences.  My  time,  when  out  of  school, 
was  spent  in  amusement.  Horses  were  at  my  command, 
and  servants  to  take  care  of  them  for  me,  and  to  bring 
them  and  take  them  away  at  my  bidding.  At  college  my 
wants  were  abundantly  supplied  without  any  care  on  my 
part,  or  any  suggestion  from  my  father  that  I  should  be 
careful  of  expenditure.  Against  immorality  of  every 
shade  he  talked  much,  and  wrote  much,  and  I  must  think 
his  watch  in  that  respect  was  attended  with  success,  for 
I  never  indulged  in  dissipation  of  any  kind,  and  I  suppose 
the  religious  training  of  my  youth  had  biased  my  mind 
against  such  evils,  so  that  when  I  left  college  my  charac 
ter  was  unstained  by  any  loose  indulgence.  I  did  not 
stand  among  the  foremost  in  my  class,  but  had  a  fair 
knowledge  of  the  studies  I  had  pursued.  With  no  pro 
fession  in  prospect  that  was  to  be  followed  for  a  life  busi 
ness,  I  merely  thought  of  acquitting  myself  decently.  I 
remember  well  the  conversation  my  father  held  with  me 
after  my  return  home  on  the  subject  of  a  profession.  The 
ministry  he  could  not  think  of,  because  it  would  involve 
a  necessary  separation  from  him,  my  mother  having  de 
ceased,  and  my  father  in  feeble  health,  to  be  separated 
from  me,  his  only  child,  he  would  not  listen  to.  Medicine 
he  abhorred,  and  doctors  he  ridiculed.  Lawyers  too, 
were  in  bad  savor  with  him.  But  he  said  the  study  of 
law  was  well  enough,  and  he  thought  every  gentleman 
needed  to  know  more  or  less  of  it,  and  I  went  into  a  law 
yer's  office  for  the  greater  part  of  one  year,  and  became 
somewhat  fond  of  it,  but  the  feeble  health  of  my  father 
interfered  so  much  with  that  pursuit,  it  was  abandoned. 
At  my  father's  death,  I  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age, 
and  a  more  helpless  person  in  reference  to  practical  busi 
ness  of  any  kind,  could  hardly  be  found.  The  estate  of 
my  father  had  been  originally  very  large,  but  his  easy  hab 
its  had  materially  damaged  it  long  before  his  death.  His 


78  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

dislike  of  the  law  too,  and  his  aversion  to  the  employ 
ment  of  men  skilled  in  its  practice  for  a  defence  against 
imposition,  laid  him  open  to  the  arts  of  dishonest  men, 
by  which  means  large  losses  were  incurred  and  his  love 
of  ease,  and  unwillingness  to  be  cramped  for  the  want  of 
ready  money,  threw  him  into  the  power  of  sharpers  and 
money  lenders,  so  that  with  loans  on  mortgage  and  accu 
mulated  interest,  and  the  very  low  price  of  land  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  in  consequence  of  a  crisis  in  the  money 
market,  a  very  large  part  of  the  estate  was  swept  off,  and 
I  found  myself  very  far  from  being  a  rich  man.  Trained 
as  I  had  been  hitherto,  it  will  not  surprise  you  to  be  told 
that  I  was  not  a  very  provident  manager,  and  that  the 
small  estate  left  to  me,  soon  began  to  grow  smaller.  At 
tracted  about  this  period  by  the  beauty  and  lovely  qual 
ities  of  a  lady  to  whom  I  was  introduced  at  the  city  of 
Boston,  I  courted  and  married  her.  She  was  the  mother 
of  my  dear  Willie,  and  possessed  of  every  quality  calcu 
lated  to  have  made  a  man  happy ;  but  how  can  a  man  be 
happy  in  embarrassed  circumstances !  Day  by  day,  al 
most  throughout  the  whole  period  that  lovely  woman  liv 
ed  as  my  wife,  I  was  tormented  with  distracting  care  — 
owing  money,  which  I  could  only  pay  by  recourse  to  those 
who  loaned  for  large  premiums,  and  returning  that  often 
by  sacrificing  stock  or  produce  at  reduced  value,  or  piling 
mortgages  upon  my  place.  I  feel  sure  that  I  did  not 
make  an  unkind  husband,  but  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of 
man  under  such  a  state  of  being,  to  keep  a  smooth  brow, 
or  an  unrufiied  temper  in  the  presence  of  even  those  he 
loves  most  tenderly,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  dear  wo 
man  had  reason  to  feel  that  her  married  life,  short  as  it 
was,  disappointed  all  the  hopes  she  had  indulged  of  con 
jugal  happiness. 

"  Soon  after  her  death,  things  rushed  to  a  crisis,  and 
my  homestead  was  obliged  to  go  under  the  hammer. 
Only  a  pittance  was  left.  My  establishment  of  course  was 
broken  up,  the  servants  dismissed,  and  with  my  little  Wil 
lie  I  went  to  board. 

"  It  was  about  a  year,  I  think,  after  leaving  the  house 
of  my  father,  that  I  became  engaged  to  a  Miss  Schmidt, 
the  daughter  of  a  Dutch  family,  which  had  migrated  from 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  79 

New  Jersey.  They  were  respectable  people,  no  doubt,  in 
their  way,  but  without  education  or  refinement.  But 
they  were  said  to  be  rich,  and  the  young  lady  especially 
was  reported  to  have  an  independent  property  of  her  own, 
which  she  inherited  from  her  grandparents,  as  it  was  said, 
'  over  the  heads '  of  her  own  parents. 

"  The  young  woman  had  no  pretensions  to  beauty  of 
person,  and  her  mind  I  well  know  was  of  quite  a  common 
order,  and  without  improvement.  I  saw  nothing  in  her 
that  reminded  me  of  the  dear  one  I  had  lost.  I  thought 
she  had  a  mild  temperament,  and  if  not  an  affectionate 
disposition,  at  least, of  that  pliable  cast  that  could  be  won 
by  kindness.  In  both  particulars,  however,  I  have  been 
disappointed ;  but  not  more  so  than  I  deserved,  for  to 
tell  you  the  naked  truth,  I  courted  and  married  her  for 
money. 

"  I  hear  you  say,  '  how  could  a  man  of  education,  and 
one  who  had  known  the  power  and  blessedness  of  true 
love  have  been  thus  ensnared  by  a  golden  bait,  and  done 
violence  to  his  reason  and  his  nature  !  I  answer  it  by  un 
folding  two  terrible  facts  in  my  life  story. 

"  First,  I  was  a  poor  dependent  on  any  freak  of  fortune. 
I  had  no  preparation  for  a  life  work.  I  had  learned 
nothing  to  any  account.  Physically  unable  to  earn  a  liv 
ing  by  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  with  no  mental  train 
ing  that  would  then  enable  me  to  provide  for  myself  and 
child  in  any  professional  calling,  I  was  in  the  condition 
of  the  man  in  the  parable,  '  he  could  not  dig,  to  beg  he 
was  ashamed.'  This  sad  condition  filled  my  heart  with 
anguish,  made  me  envy  the  daily  laborer  who,  with  rough 
garments  and  rough  hands  passed  me  on  the  way  to  his 
honest,  though  laborious  task.  In  my  view  he  was  hap 
py,  and  I  a  poor,  helpless  wretch.  This  condition  so  hope 
less,  so  desperate,  urged  me  to  the  fatal  act. 

"  But  the  second  reason  I  give  is  of  more  significance 
still.  I  was  a  wanderer  from  the  fold  of  Christ.  My 
faith  and  hope  were  mere  twinkling  stars  amid  the  dark 
ness  which  enshrouded  my  soul.  I  had  been  seriously 
impressed,  when  quite  young ;  and  under  the  advice  of  an 
incompetent  pastor,  as  I  now  believe  him  to  have  been, 
I  united  with  the  church.  My  religious  feelings  were  for 


80  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

the  time  warmly  excited,  but  my  views  of  the  doctrines 
of  religion  and  its  practical  truth,  bearing  on  the  heart 
and  life,  were  obscure  in  the  extreme.  I  had  no  teacher. 
"With  my  father,  on  the  subject  of  religion,  I  never  com 
municated,  nor  he  with  me.  The  grosser  sins  were  all 
that  he  seemed  anxious  to  have  me  avoid,  and  to  those  I 
was  never  addicted ;  but  that  the  Christian  graces  should 
be  in  lively  exercise  —  that  God's  word  should  be  studied 
as  my  rule  in  all  things  — that  a  constant  watch  should  be 
kept  over  my  heart,  to  keep  out  all  evil,  and  to  bring  eve 
ry  thought  into  obedience  to  Christ,  he  never  hinted  at. 

From  the  pulpit  I  received  no  help.  The  disjointed, 
rambling  discourses  of  our  minister,  had  no  influence 
whatever,  in  unfolding  the  true  Christian  life.  Nor  did 
he  know  any  more  of  what  I  believed,  nor  what  progress 
I  was  making  as  a  Christian,  than  I  did  of  the  design  he 
meant  to  accomplish  in  the  delivery  of  his  common-place 
half-hour  lecture,  which  he  called  a  sermon.  He  took  no 
pains  whatever,  after  I  was  united  with  the  church,  and 
my  name  enrolled  among  the  communicants,  to  ascertain 
my  spiritual  condition,  nor  do  I  believe  he  did  that  of  his 
other  young  members  ;  and  as  far  as  my  knowledge  ex 
tends,  few  amongst  our  members  exhibited  any  more  of 
the  life  of  Christ,  than  did  others  of  the  congregation 
whose  lives  were  merely  not  scandalous.  Under  such 
circumstances,  with  little  apparent  life  in  the  church,  and 
less  in  the  minister,  it  is  no  marvel  if  what  little  piety  I 
ever  had,  should  have  nearly  died  out  —  in  fact,  my  reli 
gion  was  a  mere  name,  and  the  only  restraint  upon  my 
passions,  was  the  moral  nurture  I  received  in  early  days, 
and  the  idea  that,  as  a  member  of  the  church,  any  gross 
sin  would  be  notorious.  Every  thing  like  hope  or  joy  in 
God,  or  love  to  the  word  of  God,  or  striving  after  like 
ness  to  Jesus  Christ,  was  as  foreign  to  me,  as  if  I  had 
never  indulged  the  belief  that  my  heart  had  become 
changed. 

"In  this  state  of  mind,  as  to  my  religious  character,  I 
went  to  college.  The  influences  there  were  not  favorable 
to  piety,  and  on  my  final  return  home,  I  found  indeed  a 
new  minister,  but  there  was  division  in  the  church,  and 
my  father  being  one  of  those  unfavorably  disposed,  was 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  81 

very  willing  to  excuse  himself  from  attendance  on  public 
worship,  on  the  plea  of  ill  health,  and  I  very  naturally  fol 
lowed  his  example,  attending  only  occasionally,  and  very 
carefully  avoiding  communion  Sabbaths.  The  fact  was, 
I  became  so  conscious  of  my  want  of  spiritual  life,  that 
the  very  sight  of  the  emblems  of  a  Saviour's  love,  filled 
me  with  self  reproach  and  terror. 

Thus  it  was  through  all  my  first  married  life  —  distrac 
tion  without,  and  a  guilty  conscience  within,  and  when 
death  came  to  my  abode,  and  took  my  dear  partner  from 
my  side,  and  the  execution  of  the  law  followed  and  took 
my  homestead  from  my  grasp,  I  felt  like  one  deserted  of 
God  and  man.  A  dark  cloud  settled  around  me,  and  all  I 
cared  for,  was  a  home  to  rest  in,  and  worldly  means 
whereby  I  could  live  decently  from  fear  of  want. 

"  And  now  you  will  not  wonder  how  it  was  that  I  could 
have  prostituted  the  sacred  ban  of  marriage  to  the  base 
lust  of  gain  —  that  I  could  solemnly  promise  to  love  and 
cherish  one  whose  hand  I  sought  as  a  refuge  from  pover 
ty.  It  was  a  base  act  —  the  basest  of  my  life.  But  I 
was,  in  the  righteous  judgment  of  God,  caught  in  my  own 
net.  The  Holy  Father  whose  name  is  love,  would  not 
permit  such  a  violation  of  His  own  institution  without  re 
buke.  Little  by  little  the  terrible  sin  of  the  step  I  had 
taken  unfolded  in  the  disappointment  of  my  expectation 
as  to  property,  and  the  more  terrible  certainty  that  the 
heart  of  her  I  had  married  was  only  susceptible  of  the 
very  lowest  of  all  passions  —  she  had  an  insatiable  love 
of  money. 

"  What  I  have  suffered  from  this  cause,  I  have  no  heart 
to  tell  you,  nor  could  the  revelation  do  any  good.  And 
perhaps  you  will  say,  '  of  what  avail  has  it  been  that  I 
have  harrowed  your  feelings  by  this  sad  recital ! '  My  rea- 
spn  for  it  is  this.  I  am  myself  a  lost  man,  so  far  as  this 
world  is  concerned  —  my  life  a  waste.  But,  and  I  thank 
God  for  that  one  ray  of  joy  upon  my  cloud  of  sin  and  sor 
row,  I  still  live  in  my  children.  That  dear  boy,  whom 
God  in  his  great  mercy  has  taken  away  from  scenes  of 
confusion  and  trial,  and  placed  amid  the  peace  and  beau 
ty  of  a  happy  home,  will  bear  my  life  still  onward,  when 
my  weary,  useless  journey  shall  have  ended.  I  want  him 


82  LOOKING   ABOUND, 

to  be  warned  of  the  rocks  on  which  his  father  has  been 
wrecked,  to  be  trained  for  usefulness,  to  be  taught  that 
beyond  all  worldly  maxims,  the  holy  pi-ecepts  of  the  Bi 
ble  are  to  be  regarded  as  the  only  rules  that  lead  to  vir 
tue  and  happiness.  And,  oh  sii-,  if  thus  it  might  be,  and 
my  Willie  should  become  a  man,  resolute  in  duty,  strong 
in  holy  principles,  a  light  and  a  comfort  and  a  stay  to 
them  who  may  be  cast  upon  his  care,  a  man,  pure  and 
true  —  I  shall  leel  that  my  poor  life  shall  not  have  been 
in  vain. 

"  I  herewith  send  you  two  hundred  dollars  to  be  used 
at  your  option  for  my  dear  boy.  God  in  his  mercy  has 
sent  me  some  relief  from  the  straitened  situation  in  which 
I  was  placed  when  first  introduced  to  you,  and  I  can  part 
with  this  sum  without  inconvenience.  May  God  bless 
you  and  your  dear  wife,  and  reward  you  an  hundred  fold 
for  your  kindness. 

Your  unworthy  but  obliged  friend, 

RANDOLPH  HERBERT." 


CHAPTER  V. 

It  was  two  years  after  the  scenes  narrated  in  the  two 
first  chapters  of  our  story,  in  the  latter  part  of  October, 
that  "William  Herbert  was  preparing  to  go  to  mill  with 
quite  a  large  grist  —  in  general,  this  matter  was  accom 
plished  by  throwing  a  couple  of  bags  across  the  back  of 
Grey,  with  William  mounted  on  them  —  but  as  there 
were  too  many  bags  to  be  accommodated  in  this  way,  and 
as  Mr.  Ransom  wished  to  use  Grey  himself,  resource  was 
had  to  a  neighbor  for  the  loan  of  a  horse  and  cart  or 
wagon.  The  cart  being  the  only  vehicle  not  in  use,  much 
to  the  discomfort  of  William,  he  was  obliged  to  accept  of 
it,  and  a  horse  very  much  the  contrast  of  the  fine,  fat, 
slick  Grey.  The  establishment  was  not  one  that  William 
fancied,  the  cart  being  old  and  somewhat  dilapidated,  and 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  83 

the  horse  not  only  aged,  but  bony  and  shaggy,  with  a  halt 
in  one  leg.  He  would  certainly  have  put  off  going  to 
mill  if  necessity  had  not  demanded  that  some  part  of  the 
grist  should  be  in  the  house  for  use,  before  the  day  was 
out.  It  may  as  well  be  said  here,  that  a  few  years  had 
made  a  vast  difference  in  the  amount  of  produce  that  went 
to  mill  from  the  little  parsonage  farm.  As  the  reader  al 
ready  knows,  it  contained  only  twelve  acres,  and  when  Mr. 
Ransom  took  possession,  it  was  a  mere  common,  useless 
for  anything  but  pasture,  and  unsightly  from  the  bushes 
and  wild  vines  that  had  taken  possession  along  the  lines 
of  fences.  He  saw  at  ence  that  the  place  in  its  present 
condition  would  be  of  no  value  to  him,  nor  to  any  other 
inheritor.  To  leave  it  so'  would  be  to  him  personally  an 
eye  sore.  He  believed  by  proper  culture  it  could  be  made 
to  yield  enough  to  pay  for  the  cost  at  least,  and  that,  with 
the  improvement  in  appearance,  would  be  a  gain.  As  his 
own  time  could  not  be  given  to  any  such  side  work,  he 
employed  a  man  of  sober  habits,  faithful  to  work,  and  as 
it  turned  out,  with  quite  a  taste  for  keeping  things  in  or 
der,  and  skill  enough  in  farming  to  know  how  to  do  what 
ever  needed  to  be  done  in  the  best  manner,  and  in  the 
right  time,  but  not  by  any  means  an  expert  in  the  art  of 
enriching  land,  and  so  rotating  crops  as  to  make  ten  acres 
produce  as  much  as  thirty  would  under  common  culture. 
Mr.  Ransom,  however,  knew  that  the  direction  in  that  re 
spect,  would  require  but  very  little  of  his  own  time.  In 
one  half  hour  he  could  designate  all  the  work  necessary 
to  be  accomplished  through  the  day,  and  all  the  thought 
required  in  making  the  most  of  this  little  estate,  would  be 
a  relaxation  from  severer  study. 

The  first  year  was  pretty  much  taken  up  in  clearing  off 
rubbish,  repairing  fences  and  out  buildings,  and  in  ar 
ranging  things  around  the  dwelling  house  and  garden,  and 
as  has  already  been  said,  an  entire  new  aspect  was  put  upon 
the  premises.  The  house  itself,  presented  to  the  road  a 
stone  front  of  some  forty  feet,  one  story  in  height  with  two 
domer  windows  projecting  from  the  roof —  a  double  house 
as  generally  styled,  with  a  hall  through  its  centre  and 
rooms  on  each  side.  Attached  to  the  body  of  the  house 
on  the  north  side,  was  a  wing  of  sufficient  size  to  form  a 


84  LOOKING   AROUND. 

comfortable  kitchen  ;  this  too  fronted  the  road.  It  was  of 
wood  and  painted  red.  Two  small  yards  ran  before  the 
buildings,  and  were  separated  from  each  other  by  a  slight 
fence,  and  denominated  severally  the  court-yard  and  the 
kitchen  yard.  The  latter  contained  within  its  bounds  the 
well  and  cistern,  the  wood-pile  and  etceteras  necessary  for 
domestic  purposes.  It  was  in  rather  a  confused  condition 
when  Mr.  Ransom  commenced  his  experiment  of  keeping 
house  as  a  bachelor,  for  it  had  been  made  a  depot  appar 
ently  of  all  the  rubbish  a  neighborhood  could  have  accu 
mulated.  But  things  were  soon  routed  out  that  had  no 
business  there,  and  Aunt  Alice's  yard,  as  it  was  often  call 
ed  —  she  having  become  a  fixture  in  the  establishment  of 
Mr.  Ransom  —  rivaled  in  neatness  and  order,  its  close 
neighbor  with  the  ti'im  flower  beds  and  ornamental  shrub 
bery.  The  garden  intervened  between  the  dwelling  house 
and  barn,  and  lay  along  the  road,  so  that  it  was  in  fair 
view,  and  could  be  either  from  its  nice  culture  and  thrifty 
aspect  and  floral  adornments,  a  joy  to  the  passer  by,  and 
a  stimulus  to  go  and  do  likewise,  or  a  source  for  little 
slants  and  strange  surmisings,  and  hard  conclusions  if  al 
lowed  to  take  care  of  itself,  and  nurse  its  own  rank  weeds. 
People  will  judge  one  another  in  regard  to  many  things 
from  associates  and  surroundings.  Mr.  Ransom  thought, 
aside  from  his  own  taste  in  such  matters,  that  some  part 
of  his  influence  depended  upon  the  aspect  which  he  him 
self  and  his  premises  presented  to  his  people. 

But  an  agreeable  appearance  was  not  the  only  advan 
tage  obtained  from  the  wise  management  of  Mr.  Ransom. 
The  little  farm  had  become  very  productive.  Not  only 
his  horse  and  cow  were  abundantly  supplied  with  choice 
food,  so  that  they  both  were  in  the  finest  condition,  but  a 
great  part  of  the  provision  for  his  family  came  from  the 
same  source,  and  the  bags  of  grain,  which  Peter,  the  hired 
man,  had  put  into  the  old  cart,  were  some  of  them  wheat 
and  rye,  for  the  family,  and  coi-n  for  the  horse  and  pig. 

"  And  you  will  be  careful,  Mr.  Willie,  to  sit  well  in  the 
front  of  the  cart,  for  the  load  is  a  little  too  heavy  behind. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  change  it,  but  if  you  keep  well  to  the 
front,  it  wont  matter." 


LOOKING   AROUND.  85 

"  I  will,  Mr.  Peter,  but  it  would  not  surprise  me  if  the 
whole  concern  came  down  together  —  it  is  very  shaky." 

"  You  must  go  slow,  then,  and  be  careful  of  the  ruts." 

"1  think  there  will  not  be  much  danger  of  my  making 
great  speed.  I  do  hate  to  drive  such  a  horse." 

"Ay,  ay,  Mr.  Willie,  you'd  much  rather  have  bonny 
Grey  I  warrant  you,  but  in  case  of  a  break  down,  I  am 
not  sure  but  this  will  be  the  safest  beast,  but  you  will 
make  all  the  speed  you  can,  with  safety,  for  Aunt  Alice 
says  she  must  have  the  wheat  flour  at  any  rate  —  but  you 
are  not  going  to  the  mill  with  your  good  clothes  on,  my 
boy!" 

"  I  thought  to  do  so — they  are  not  my  best." 

"  That's  true,  and  yet  they're  too  good  to  go  into  the 
old  dirty  mill,  and  to  be  handling  bags  of  meal  with ;  the 
le"ast  you  can  do,  is  to  put  on  your  frock  and  overalls." 

William  had  some  private  reasons  for  not  wishing  to 
make  the  proposed  change,  but  his  own  judgment  so  de 
cidedly  agreed  with  the  advice  of  Mr.  Peter,  that  he  dare 
not  allow  his  feelings  to  have  their  way;  he  knew  that 
meal  dust  was  by  no  means  wholesome  for  good  broad 
cloth.  The  change  was  soon  made,  and  William  Herbert, 
the  gentleman's  son,  was  transformed  into  a  very  good 
looking  farmer's  boy. 

Now,  in  general,  William  would  have  no  scruples  what 
ever,  in  going  into  any  part  of  the  parish  in  his  present 
rig,  but  on  the  road  to  the  mill  there  stood  a  dwelling 
house  of  some  pretensions,  and  at  present  there  were  vis 
itors  at  it  from  the  city  of  New  York,  and  although  the 
house  was  so  far  from  the  road,  that  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  distinguish  individuals,  yet  on  two  occasions 
when  riding  out  lately  for  amusement,  he  had  met  a  lad 
of  about  his  own  age,  and  a  young  lady,  of  what  age  he 
could  not  guess,  her  long  riding  dress  making  her  appear 
much  older  than  she  really  was  on  horseback.  They  were 
handsomely  dressed,  and  on  beautiful  horses,  and  rodo 
with  ease,  as  though  accustomed  to  the  exercise.  From 
the  peculiar  cast  of  countenance  of  the  young  gentleman 
as  he  passed  them,  he  judged  the  young  lady  had  made 
some  remark  of  a  disparaging  nature,  and  that  the  young 
man  was  only  restrained  from  a  fit  of  laughter  by  a  strong 


86  LOOKING    AROUND. 

effort.    He  certainly  saw  a  peculiar  smile  on  the  face  of 
the  young  lady. 

Now,  what  there  was  in  or  about  him  to  excite  laugh 
ter,  he  could  not  imagine.  He  knew  that  Grey  was  in 
food  condition  and  bore  himself  nobly,  and  as  to  his  own 
i-ess  —  he  knew  that  was  as  good  as  any  of  his  age  wore 
in  that  vicinity  —  he  could  not  see  how  it  materially  dif 
fered  from  that  of  the  young  stranger,  and  if  it  was  his 
style  of  riding  that  was  the  subject  for  ridicule,  it  had 
been  taught  him  by  Mr.  Ransom,  and  he  knew  a  better 
rider  was  seldom  seen.  But  as  there  is  nothing  about 
which  a  youth  of  his  age  is  so  alive  as  ridicule,  and  as  he 
had  got  the  impression  that  for  some  reason  he  was  the 
subject  of  jest,  and  that  on  the  part  of  the  young  lady 
too,  of  whose  sex  William  was  in  general  very  shy,  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  prejudiced  against  them  both,  and 
sincerely  hoped  he  might  not  meet  them,  and  especially 
in  his  present  trim. 

Mounting  his  cart  and  giving  the  old  horse  a  cut  —  that 
being  an  absolute  necessity  for  the  beginning  of  any  lo 
comotion  —  he  went  on  his  way  at  first,  by  an  indefinite 
sort  of  trot,  gradually  subsiding  into  a  walk,  which  latter 
pace  William  was  quite  reconciled  to  endure,  opposed  as 
he  was  to  it  in  general,  rather  than  the  sight  of  the  limp 
and  the  uncouth  motion  it  imparted  to  the  cart.  The 
distance  to  the  mill  was  nearly  two  miles,  and  two  thirds 
of  it  was  passed  over,  when  to  his  inexpressible  chagrin, 
he  saw  the  two  individuals  most  upon  his  mind,  just  then 
turning  from  their  avenue  into  the  highway,  and  coming 
towards  him.  As  quick  as  thought,  at  the  first  sight  of 
them  and  before  they  could  have  noticed  him,  he  sprang 
from  the  broad  seat  which  had  been  placed  so  near  the 
fore  end  that  his  feet  had  dangled  over  the  outside,  and 
threw  himself  on  one  of  the  bags  of  grain,  and  pulled  the 
board  on  which  he  had  been  seated,  from  its  place,  and 
laid  it  beside  him.  The  only  advantage  gained  by  this 
move,  was  a  little  less  distinguished  position.  He  felt 
that  the  body  of  the  cart  would  be  a  sort  of  screen,  at 
least  it  was  not  so  likely  to  attract  notice  as  the  one  he 
left.  He  had,  however,  in  his  energy  to  avoid  one  evil 
forgotten  the  injunction  of  Mr.  Peter  to  "  keep  well  in 


LOOKING   AROUND.  87 

front."  He  noticed,  however,  that  the  jolting  of  the  cart 
was  exceedingly  increased,  and  that  the  bolt  which  con 
fined  the  body  to  the  shafts  worked  at  every  step  of  the 
horse,  as  if  it  had  more  to  bear  than  it  could  well  sustain, 
and  that  the  belly  girth  was  strained  so  tight  that  the  old 
horse  had  some  extra  efforts  to  make  in  keeping  his  fore 
feet  on  the  ground,  he  had  to  scratch  hard  as  if  going  up 
hill.  William  knew  at  once  the  cause  for  all  this,  but 
there  was  no  time  to  remedy  matters  not  just  then,  for  the 
two  riders  were  coming  on  at  a  fleet  pace.  It  was  a  beau 
tiful  sight  if  he  had  been  in  a  mood  to  enjoy  it ;  their 
horses  kept  step  together  on  a  free  canter.  Beautiful  an 
imals  were  both  of  them,  and  the  young  riders  full  of  life 
and  joy,  were  chatting  and  laughing  merrily.  William 
saw  them  looking  earnestly  at  him ;  they  were  both  smil 
ing  to  be  sure,  but  not  necessarily  at  him.  He  felt  very 
uncomfortable,  and  to  relieve  himself  gave  the  old  horse 
a  cut.  The  riders  were  just  beside  him,  in  the  act  of 
passing.  There  was  a  slight  crack  as  the  old  horse  start 
ed  at  the  application  of  the  lash,  and  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  William  found  himself  and  his  bags  lying  togeth 
er  in  the  road,  and  the  old  cart  with  its  fore  end  pointing 
in  the  direction  of  the  North  Star,  or  some  other  heaven 
ly  body.  He  called  out  whoa,  quite  lustily,  which  at  once 
caused  a  cessation  of  speed,  but  no  letting  down  of  the 
upward  tendency  of  the  fore  end.  The  aspect  of  affairs 
was  indeed  very  ludicrous,  and  he  would  himself,  under 
almost  any  other  circumstances,  have  indulged  a  hearty 
laugh,  but  it  is  one  thing  to  laugh  at  one's  own  mishaps, 
and  a  very  different  affair  when  one  is  laughed  at.  The 
young  lady  did  laugh,  after  recovering  from  the  start 
which  the  alarm  of  her  horse  had  given  her  and  perceived 
that  nobody  was  hurt.  She  did  laugh,  and  really  no  one 
in  his  senses  could  have  blamed  her.  But  William  heai'd 
it,  for  it  was  a  beautiful,  clear,  ringing  laugh,  just  such  as 
one  might  expect  to  hear  from  a  lively,  joyous  girl  of 
twelve  years  of  age.  It,  however,  rung  on  the  ears  of 
William  like  the  grating  of  the  most  terrible  discord. 
He  was  mortified  at  his  mishap  —  vexed  at  himself  for 
want  of  thought  —  troubled  to  know  how  to  right  mat 
ters,  and  altogether  in  a  very  uncomfortable  state  of  mind. 


88  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

• 

The  young  gentleman  on  horseback  at  once  dismounted, 
and  handing  the  bridle  reins  to  his  companion,  stepped  up 
to  the  scene  of  trouble,  and  with  a  pleasant  voice,  al 
though  somewhat  broken  by  his  effort  to  restrain  a  laugh, 
said : 

"  Shall  I  not  help  you  ?  Will  you  not  need  assist 
ance?" 

With  a  highly  flushed  countenance,  and  his  eye  spark 
ling  with  resentment,  William  answered, 

"  No  sir,  your  help  is  not  needed." 

There  was  no  acknowledgment  of  the  act  of  politeness 
in  coming  to  his  aid,  and  the  tone  of  the  voice,  hard  and 
quick,  the  fire  from  his  eye  and  the  flushed  face,  all  were 
of  a  piece.  The  young  gentleman  looked  surprised  — 
stood  a  moment  as  in  doubt  whether  to  say  anything  fur 
ther,  and  then  with  a  slight  bow,  in  silence  returned,  and 
mounting  his  horse  the  two  riders  went  on  their  way. 

William  soon  found  that  he  did  need  help.  He  had  not 
sufficient  strength  alone,  to  right  the  iipturned  body  with 
all  the  bags  of  grain,  now  lying  close  packed  at  the  lower 
end.  He  might  indeed  haul  them  out,  and  thus  relieve 
the  unfortunate  cart  body,  but  how  was  he  to  lift  the  bags 
again  into  it,  when  once  in  its  horizontal  position  !  He 
might  possibly  have  strength  to  sustain  a  bag  on  his  shoul 
der  when  placed  there,  but  how  was  he  to  get  it  there  ? 
He  was  certainly  in  a  very  unpromising  condition  to  com 
ply  with  the  injunction,  "to  make  all  remarkable  dispatch 
as  the  flour  was  needed." 

"  You  want  some  help,  my  boy,  I'm  a  thinking." 

William  turned,  and  saw  a  man  approaching,  who  had, 
unperceived  by  him,  just  sprung  over  the  fence  from  an 
adjoining  field.  Never  was  he  more  rejoiced.  Yes,  he 
wanted  help,  he  wanted  it  badly,  and  was  now  quite  free 
to  acknowledge  it.  And  when  things  were  all  righted, 
and  the  vehicle  again  prepared  for  progress,  he  could 
hardly  find  words  sufficiently  strong  to  satisfy  his  sense 
of  obligation. 

Nothing  further  occurred  as  a  hindrance,  and  sooner 
than  he  had  any  reason  to  hope  he  was  on  his  way  back 
to  the  parsonage. 

Mr.  Ransom  had  returned,  and  was  in  his  study  about 


LOOKING   AROUND.  89 

the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  when  William  entered  it. 
He  had  the  liberty  of  free  access  there  at  all  times  when 
the  door  was  unlocked. 

"  Ah,  Willie,  you  have  got  back  safely,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  almost  feared  when  Peter  told  me  what  a  frail  con 
cern  you  went  with,  that  you  might  very  likely  have  a 
break  down." 

"  I  had  a  tip  up,  sir.  A  wooden  pin  that  secured  the 
bolt,  broke  and  let  the  cart  body  over,  but  no  damage  was 
done.  A  man  in  a  field  close  by,  came  and  fixed  it  for 
me.  Do  you  think,  sir,  that  Grey  is  too  tired  to  go  a 
couple  of  miles  this  afternoon  ?  " 

"  Too  tired !    No,  who  wants  him?  " 

"  I  do  sir." 

"  Oh,  take  him,  certainly." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

Having  obtained  the  desired  permission,  his  next"  move 
was  to  the  barn,  where  he  spent  a  full  half  hour  in  rub 
bing,  brushing  and  combing  his  favorite,  until  he  looked 
his  very  best ;  saddled  and  bridled  him,  and  then  led  him 
to  a  stand  under  the  shed,  his  usual  place  when  harnessed 
for  an  exciirsion.  From  thence  he  proceeded  to  his  room 
and  changed  his  dress,  completely  arraying  himself  in  his 
newest  apparel. 

Being  in  general  very  careful  of  his  clothes,  it  was 
somewhat  a  surprise  to  Mrs.  Ransom,  to  see  him  pass 
throiigh  the  hall,  and  in  a  few  minutes  ride  past  the  house 
thus  clad,  and  with  an  extra  finish  to  his  whole  outfit.  He 
was  not  home  to  supper,  and  as  they  sat  down  to  the  ta 
ble,  Mrs.  Ransom  remarked : 

"  I  wonder  where  Willie  has  gone,  this  afternoon.  Do 
you  know,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  do  not ;  why  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"He  made  such  unusual  preparation.  He  does  not, 
you  know,  in  general,  wear  his  best  clothes,  especially  if 
going  on  horse-back ;  and  it  is  not  usual  for  him  to  ride 
off  without  saying  something  to  me,  in  case  I  might  have 
some  errand  in  the  direction  he  was  going." 

"  He  asked  my  permission  to  use  the  horse,  he  wanted 
to  go  about  a  couple  of  miles,  he  said.  I  made  no  inqui- 


90  V  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

ries  as  to  where  he  was  going,  as  I  do  not  like  to  have 
him  imagine  that  I  distrust  his  judgment,  or  feel  it  neces 
sary  to  keep  an  eye  on  all  his  motions.  He  will  probably 
of  his  own  account,  tell  one  or  both  of  us  on  his  return." 

The  errand  on  which  William  was  bound,  was  the  re 
sult  of  wholesome  reflection  on  the  scenes  of  the  morning. 
When  that  young  man  left  him,  without  making  any  re 
ply  to  the  surly  answer  he  received,  the  conscience  of 
William  began  to  exercise  her  power,  and  very  soon 
awoke  him  to  sense  of  wrong  on  his  part  wholly  inexcu 
sable.  He  had  allowed  his  suspicions  to  work  unchecked, 
until  they  had  led  him  to  lower  himself  beneath  the  char 
acter  of  a  gentleman.  He  became  utterly  ashamed  of  his 
rude  behaviour,  and  resolved  to  lose  no  time  in  repairing 
his  error  as  far  as  possible,  by  making  a  suitable  apology, 
and  he  was  on  his  way  now,  to  do  it. 

He  was  but  slightly  known  at  the  house  to  which  he 
was  going,  and  a  perfect  stranger  to"  the  young  persons 
whose  motions  had  worked  up  his  bad  feelings;  he  did 
not  know  their  names.  He  knew  that  the  owner  of  the 
place  had  lately  purchased,  and  had  removed  there  from 
New  York.  He  knew  that  his  name  was  Douglas,  and 
he  had  seen  him  at  Mr.  Ransom's,  and  had  heard  that 
gentleman  speak  well  of  him  as  a  Christian,  and  a  man  of 
more  than  ordinary  information,  and  that  he  considered 
him  quite  an  addition  to  their  society.  He  had  heard  also 
that  Mr.  Douglas  had  friends  from  New  York  staying 
there,  but  their  names  he  did  not  know,  and  supposed  of 
course  the  young  persons  with  whom  he  had  come  so  un 
pleasantly  in  contact,  were  some  of  these  visitors. 

He  did  not  ride  fast,  although  he  was  in  haste  to  accom 
plish  his^  task.  It  was,  of  course,  not  a  very  pleasant  un 
dertaking,  but  he  meant  to  go  through  with  it,  and  the 
sooner  it  was  done  and  over,  the  better ;  and  yet  he  kept 
Grey  on  a  moderate  pace,  for  he  wished  to  keep  himself 
cool,  and  his  thoughts  collected.  He  might  meet  with  a 
rebuflj  and  have  his  feelings  severely  tried,  and  therefore 
he  wished  to  be  well  prepared  by  thinking,  not  of  the 
words  he  was  to  say,  but  of  the  obligation  he  was  under 
as^a  gentleman  to  make  the  amende  honorable,  and  to  do 
it  in  a  proper  spirit.  He  hoped  too,  by  riding  at  a  slow 


LOOKING   AROUND.  91 

pace,  that  he  might  meet  the  persons  he  was  in  quest  of; 
it  might  be  a  very  awkward  business  when  he  got  there, 
especially  as  he  was  unacquainted  with  their  names. 

His  wish,  however,  was  not  granted ;  he  met  no  one  on 
the  road.  He  turned  up  resolutely  into  the  fine  wide  av- 
enne,  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  he  saw  two  horses  stand 
ing  near  the  house.  They  were  fastened,  and  doubtless 
waiting  for  the  riders.  One  of  them  had  on  a  lady's  sad 
dle,  and  as  he  drew  near  he  perceived  that  they  were  the 
same  he  had  met  in  the  morning.  He  dismounted,  and 
was  tying  his  horse  to  a  post,  when  two  gentlemen  emerg 
ed  from  the  house,  and  took  seats  on  the  piazza.  As  soon 
as  he  had  fastened  his  horse,  he  walked  up  the  steps,  and 
as  Mr.  Douglas,  who  was  one  of  the  gentlemen,  recogniz 
ed  him,  he  at  once  arose,  and  taking  his  hand  and  leading 
him  up  to  the  other,  said, 

"  Mr.  Stanley,  this  is  Master  William  Herbert." 

The  gentleman,  on  taking  his  hand,  gave  him,  as  Wil 
liam  thought,  rather  a  severe  look.  Of  ^course  he  suppos 
ed  the  scene  of  the  morning  had  been  rehearsed,  and  this 
gentleman,  doubtless  the  father  of  one  or  both  of  the 
young  people,  was  merely  manifesting  a  very  natural  dis 
pleasure. 

"  Mr.  Douglas,"  said  William,  "  is  the  young  gentleman 
in,  who  rode  out  from  here  this  morning,  accompanying  a 
young  lady  ?  They  were  on  horseback." 

"  Oh,  yes  !     Charlie,  you  mean." 

"  I  have  never  heard  his  name,  sir.     Can  I  see  him  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,  but  you  say  you  don't  know  his  name, 
and  yet  sure  enough,  he  has  only  been  at  home  a  few  days. 
Charlie  Douglas,  come  here."  He  gave  a  good  loud  call, 
and  immediately  William  perceived  the  said  Charlie  walk 
ing  with  a  quick  step  through  the  hall,  followed  by  the 
young  lady,  and  both  appareled  for  riding. 

"  Come,  Charlie,  I  want  to  introduce  you  to  this  young 
gentlemen." 

This  was  rather  an  unpleasant  turn  to  matters,  under 
the  circumstances.  However  ready  William  might  have 
been  to  make  the  acquaintance,  he  could  not  but  feel  that 
with  the  remembrance  by  the  young  man  of  the  rude 
treatment  he  had  received  a  few  hours  ago,  he,  William 


92  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

could  hardly  be  acknowledged  as  a  fair  specimen  of  a  gen 
tleman,  to  say  the  least.  It  must  not  be  so.  Before  he 
gave  his  hand,  he  must  wash  out  the  foul  blot ;  he  there 
fore  quickly  responded  to  what  Mr.  Douglas  had  said  : 

"  I  am  by  no  means  sure,  sir,  that  the  young  gentleman 
will  desire  my  acquaintance.  I  treated  him  very  rudely 
this  morning,  and  have  come  here  purposely  to  ask  his 
pardon." 

"  That  was  the  very  thing  I  was  going  to  do  to  you  the 
next  time  I  met  you,  for  my  rudeness  in  laughing  at  your 
calamities,"  said  young  Douglas. 

"  Oh,  but  Mr.  Charlie  Douglas,"  said  the  young  lady, 
"  please  let  me  confess  my  own  transgressions.  It  was  I 
who  laughed,  and  I  felt  very  much  mortified  when  I  saw 
that  you  were  tried  by  it,"  addressing  William.  "  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  it." 

"  I  came  to  ask  forgiveness,  miss,  not  to  grant  it.  Your 
laughter  is  very  excusable,  indeed,  I  could  have  laughed 
many  times  to-day,  myself,  when  thinking  of  my  ridicu 
lous  position,  had  it  not  been  for  the  mortification  I  felt 
on  account  of  my  rudeness.  May  I  hope  that  you  will 
forget  it?"  .turning  towards  young  Douglas. 

"  Forget  it ! "  putting  out  his  hand,  which  William  took, 
"  why,  there  is  nothing  to  forget  on  my  part,  if  you  have 
nothing  on  yours,  I  am  very  sure." 

Mr.  Douglas  looked  on  with  an  air  of  amazement  while 
the  young  people  were  thus  settling  their  difficulties  — 
the  whole  matter  was  a  riddle  to  him  —  and  then  taking 
William's  hand : 

"  This  whole  concern  is  somewhat  of  a  blind  business 
to  me ;  but  if  I  understand  aright,  my  good  fellow,  you 
have  imagined  yourself  to  have  done  wrong,  and  have 
come  forward  manfully,  and  I  must  say  under  somewhat 
trying  circumstances,  to  confess  it  and  make  reparation. 
Whether  you  have  done  this  of  your  own  accord,  I  know 
not,  but  you  have  acted  a  noble  part  — you  have  risen  a 
hundred  per  cent  in  my  estimation." 

"  I  have  done  it,  sir,  of  my  own  accord ;  but  it  was  not 
for  an  imaginary  transgression.  I  was  in  an  unhappy 
state  of  mind,  and  forgot,  sir,  for  the  moment,  my  obliga 
tion  to  God  and  my  fellows." 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  93 

William  did  not  say  this  without  manifesting  strong 
emotion.  His  lips  quivered  and  his  bright  eye  suddenly 
moistened ;  all  present  perceived  it.  The  young  lady, 
perhaps,  was  more  particularly  affected  by  it.  She  imme 
diately  stepped  up  and  put  out  her  hand. 

"  You  will  forgive  me,  will  you  not  ?     It  is  I  who  have  . 
caused  all  this  trouble." 

William  took  her  hand  and  tried  to  answer,  but  the  un 
expected  turn  things  had  taken,  together  with  the  deep 
excitement  under  which  for  some  time  he  had  been  labor 
ing,  had  quite  overcome  his  manliness.  The  tears  started 
—  he  wished  to  get  away — he  bowed  to  the  company, 
and  was  about  to  leave  them,  when  young  Douglas  caught 
hold  of  him,  and  as  he  descended  the  steps  went  down  to 
wards  the  gate  a  few  steps/ 

"  Now,  come,  you  are  not  going  away  so.  You  must 
not  mind  it,  there  has  been  a  mistake  all  around.  You 
have  done  your  part,  and  more  than  your  part  to  mend  it. 
Come,  go  in  the  garden  with  me  a  few  minutes,"  and  tak 
ing  his  arm  they  walked  off  together. 

"  Douglas,"  said  the  gentleman  whom  we  have  called 
Stanley,  "  who  is  that  young  fellow  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  much  about  him,  only  that  he  is  un 
der  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ransom,  our  minister ;  his 
name  is  Herbert."  .  •  ; 

"  His  father  living  ?     Wealthy  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  whether  his  father  is  living  or  not,  but 
I  think  not.  He  is  not  wealthy,  however,  for  Mr.  Ransom 
in  speaking  to  me  as  he  did  on  one  occasion  about  him, 
remarked,  that  he  should  be  glad  to  find  a  situation  for 
him  with  the  right  kind  of  person,  and  that  he  believed 
he  would  do  well,  for  he  was  very  ambitious  to  do  for 
himself." 

"  Did  you  notice  what  a  fine  eye  he  has  ?  " 

"  Brilliant  —  there  is  a  good  deal  of  the  man  about  him, 
depend  upon  it." 

"  Sis,  come  here,"  and  Mr.  Stanley  called  by  this  title 
the  young  girl  who  had  taken  such  a  part  in  the  little 
scene  just  described ;  she  was  his  daughter.  She  was 
standing  at  the  other  end  of  the  piazza,  and  very  likely 
looking  at  the  young  gentleman,  who,  from  her  position, 


LOOKHTG    ABOUND. 


could  be  seen  walking  arm  in  arm  in  the  garden.  She 
came  quickly  at  the  call,  and  did  not  seem  to  care  that 
the  tokens  of  tears  were  manifest  on  her  countenance. 

"  N"ow,  daughter,  I  want  you  to  tell  us  all  about  this 
business.  What  has  happened  to  make  this  little  breeze  ?  " 

"  Well,  papa,  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it.  You  see,  one 
day  when  Charles  and  I  were  riding  on  horseback,  we  met 
a  young  gentleman  on  a  very  handsome  grey  horse. 
Charles  says  to  me,  '  how  proudly  that  horse  steps  !  '  and 
I  turning  to  him  said,  '  how  beautiful  his  rider  sits,  and 
how  very  handsome  he  is  !  '  ' 

"  Well  done,  Eva  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Douglas,  indulging 
a  hearty  laugh.  "  Charlie  noticed  the  horse,  but  you  was 
taken  up  with  noticing  the  fine  eyes  and  curly  hair,  and 
the  pretty  face  of  the  young  gentleman." 

"  Well,  you  see,  Mr.  Douglas,  pa  wanted  me  to  tell  all 
about  it,  and  so  I  had  to  tell  that,  for  it  was  the  beginning 
of  it." 

"  The  beginning  of  what  ?  "  Mr  Douglas  was  the  speak 
er,  Mr.  Stanley  remaining  silent,  but  apparently  an  inter 
ested  listener. 

"  The  beginning  of  all  the  trouble,  you  see,  for  when  I 
said  to  Charles,  '  how  beautiful  the  young  gentleman  rides, 
and  how  handsome  he  is,'  he  turned  towards  me  and 
smiled,  and  I  smiled  too  —  I  know  I  did  ;  and  just  then  the 
grey  horse  and  his  rider  were  opposite  to  us,  and  I  saw 
the  young  gentleman  look  very  pleasantly  as  if  he  were 
going  to  salute  us  —  bow,  or  take  off  his  cap  —  but  all  at 
once  his  countenance  grew  very  sober,  and  he  chirruped 
to  his  horse  and  went  off  on  a  gallop.  I  thought  then 
thati.  like  as  not  he  supposed  we  were  laughing  at  him. 
Well,  in  a  few  days  after  this  we  met  him  again,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  near  enough  to  distinguish  who  he  was, 
Charles  says  to  me, 

"  *  There  Eva  !  there  comes  your  fine  rider,  and  hand 
some  young  gentleman.'  " 

"  Well  you  see  that  set  me  to  laughing  again.  I  was 
not  laughing  at  the  stranger,  but  that  Charles  should  bring 
up  what  I  said  just  at  that  time  ;  it  was  foolish  in  me  I 
know,  but  how  you  see  could  I  help  it.  This  time  he  nev 
er  turned  his  eyes  towards  us,  but  kept  his  hand  playing 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  95 

with  the  mane  of  his  horse ;  but  this  morning  was  the 
worst  of  all.  Just  after  we  got  out  of  the  avenue  into  the 
road,  we  saw  coming  towards  us,  a  horse  and  cart ;  a  very 
old  looking  horse  with  a  very  odd  gait,  and  the  cart,  too, 
looked  old,  and  squeaked  a  little,  just  a  very  little,  so  we 
could  hear  it.  At  first,  we  thought  there  was  no  driver, 
but  as  we  drew  near,  we  perceived  some  one  sitting  down 
low,  and  behind  him  bags  of  grain.  He  was  dressed  in  a 
farmer's  frock.  Charles  did  not  recognize  who  it  was,  but 
I  did,  and  I  says,  '  Chaules,  that  is  the  young  gentleman 
whom  we  have  met  on  the  grey  horse.'  '  Is  it  ?  '  said  he. 
'  You  must  have  noticed  him  pretty  sharply  to  be  able  to 
know  him  in  such  a  different  garb.'  This,  I  suppose,  made 
me  smile  again  ;  and  just  then  the  young  man  gave  his 
horse  the  lash,  and  he  jumped  a  little,  and  all  at  once,  up 
went  the  fore  end  of  the  cart,  and  down  went  the  young 
man  backwards  among  the  bags,  and  was  sitting  down 
flat  in  the  road  and  hallooing  whoa,  whoa,  to  his  horse. 
I  could  not  help  laughing,  and  no  doubt  he  heard  me  ;  and 
I'm  so  sorry  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  and  exhausted 
with  the  excitement  of  telling  over  the  whole  scene,  Eva 
had  to  let  the  tears  come  freely. 

"  Well,  well,  my  darling,"  said  Mr.  Stanley,  "  I  am  glad 
you  are  so  sensitive  of  the  feelings  of  others.  I  see  the 
whole  thing  now.  The  young  man,  no  doubt,  is  very  sen 
sitive  too,  and  very  likely  somewhat  nettled  because  his 
team  was  rather  exceptionable,  and  his  tumble  down  over 
which,  if  no  one  had  observed,  he  would  no  doubt  have 
laughed  heartily,  happening  just  as  it  did,  and  perhaps 
hearing  your  laughter  was  a  little  more  than  he  could  stand, 
but  it  is  all  well  settled  now,  and  I  must  have  a  talk  with 
him." 

Very  soon  the  two  young  men  were  seen  coming  in 
from  the  garden.  Eva  dried  her  tears  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  as  they  came  up  to  her,  Charles  said  : 

"  Now  we  are  all  going  to  have  a  ride  together,  but  I 
must  first  introduce  you  to  my  friend  here,  Miss  Eva  Stan 
ley,  Mr.  William  Randolph  Herbert."  Both  smiled  pleas 
antly,  and  were  about  to  go  towards  the  gate,  when  Wil 
liam,  turning  to  the  two  gentlemen,  who  were  still  on  the 
piazza,  removed  his  cap  and  bowed. 


96  LOOKING   AROUND. 

"  Stop,  stop,"  said  Mr.  Stanley,  and  immediately  he  ad 
vanced  towards  the  group. 

"  I  want  to  take  this  young  gentleman  by  the  hand." 
William  immediately  stepped  forward. 

"  I  wish  to  say  to  you  that  I  have  been  highly  gratified 
to  find  one  so  young  as  you  are,  so  tenacious  of  the  char 
acter  of  a  gentleman.  It  is  a  term  very  much  abused  by 
its  application  to  those  who  have  no  real  title  to  it,  but  it 
is  a  word  that  has  great  meaning,  and  involves  in  its  true 
signification,  all  that  is  just  and  honorable  and  of  good 
report.  You  have  fairly  blotted  out  every  mark  that 
might  possibly,  from  this  little  mishap,  have  been  made 
against  your  claim  as  such,  and  I  will  say  more  —  you  have 
manifested  a  care  for  your  character  in  that  respect,  that 
gives  assurance  of  its  resting  on  a  firm  basis.  Be  a  true 
gentleman,  and  you  can  never  be  a  bad  man." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  very  much  for  your  kind  opinion," 
said  William,  "  and  hope  I  shall  learn  to  behave  better 
next  time." 

Miss  Eva  allowed  William  to  assist  her  in  mounting, 
and  the  little  party  rode  off  as  happy  as  young  hearts 
could  be. 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Ransom  was  called  from  his  study 
to  see  two  gentlemen,  who  were  waiting  for  him  in  the 
parlor.  As  he  entered  the  room,  Mr.  Douglas  arose  to 
meet  him,  and  introduced  his  friend,  Mr.  Stanley. 

"  I  ought  to  apologize  to  you,  Mr.  Ransom,  for  bring 
ing  my  friend  here  on  Saturday.  It  being  the  last  day  of 
the  week,  you  are  doubtless  occupied  in  your  preparations 
for  the  Sabbath,  but  Mr.  Stanley  feels  that  he  must  return 
to  New  York  the  first  of  the  week,  and  he  is  very  desir 
ous  of  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  you,  and  so  I 
thought  I  would  venture  to  come. 

"  No  apology  is  necessary,  my  dear  sir,  for  I  must  tell 
you,  I  never  leave  my  preparation  for  the  Sabbath  to  the 
uncertainties  of  a  last  day.  I  have  learned  that  by  tak 
ing  things  in  time,  much  anxiety  is  prevented  and  the 
evils  of  haste  avoided.  I  therefore  commence  my  labors 
as  other  men  do,  on  Monday  morning,  and  Saturday  is  as 
much  at  the  command  of  my  friends  as  any  other.  So 
make  yourselves,  gentlemen,  perfectly  easy  on  that  score." 


• 

-,_.,-; 
LOOKING   ABOUND.  97 

"  My  friend  here,"  said  Mr.  Douglas,  "  wishes  to  have  a 
little  talk  with  you  about  the  young  gentleman  at  present 
under  your  care.  By  the  way,  have  you  known  anything 
of  a  little  occurrence  that  took  place  yesterday,  between 
him  and  my  son  and  Mr.  Stanley's  daughter  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,  sir.  Last  evening,  William,  as  is 
his  custom  if  anything  has  occurred  with  him  more  than 
usual,  related  to  me  I  presume,  the  whole  scene,  and  I 
must  say  I  was  pleased  to  know  that  he  has  such  sensi 
tive  feelings  as  to  his  character  on  the  score  of  politeness. 
He  felt  that  he  had  transgressed  the  rules  which  should 
govern  a  true  gentleman,  and  was  unhappy  until  he  had 
made  atonement." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Stanley,  "  if  I  have  understood  you 
correctly,  you  did  not  know  of  the  affair  until  it  had  been 
settled." 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  it,  sir,  until  after  his  return  from 
the  house  of  Mr.  Douglas,  in  company  with  the  young 
gentleman  and  lady,  whom  he  brought  in  and  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Ransom  and  myself;  and,  from  the  very  pleasant 
terms  on  which  the  young  people  seemed  to  be  with  each 
other,  I  should  never  have  imagined  there  had  been  any 
difficulty  between  them.  Yes,  sir,  his  acknowledgment 
of  the  error  he  had  committed  was  a  spontaneous  actj  and 
I  am  glad  it  was  so." 

"  And  I  too,  sir,"  responded  Mi\  Stanley.  "  I  will  be 
frank  with  you,  Mr.  Ransom,  and  say  at  once  that  I  have 
formed  a  very  high  opinion  of  the  young  man.  Am  I  has 
ty  in  my  conclusion  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  can  say,  sir,  that  so  far  as  regards  perfect 
truthfulness,  an  open,  frank,  manly  behavior,  under  all 
circumstances,  and  a  kind  and  affectionate  disposition, 
you  are  correct.  I  would  trust  his  integrity  to  any  ex 
tent." 

"I  should  judge,  sir,  too,  from  his  very  countenance 
that  he  has  energy,  not  easily  daunted  in  an  undertaking." 

"  I  think  it  will  prove  to  be  thus  when  he  has  an  op 
portunity  to  be  tested.  Of  one  thing  I  am  sure,  he  has 
an  insatiable  ambition  to  take  care  of  himself;  how  much 
business  talent  may  be  developed,  remains  of  course  for 
5 


98  LOOKING   AROUND. 

the  future  to  unfold.    In  small  matters  he  is  prompt,  or 
derly  and  systematic." 

"  I  am  in  want,  Mr.  Ransom,  of  a  young  person  of  his 
age  and  of  the  qualities  which  I  believe  he  possesses. 
Does  he  wish  to  enter  on  a  mercantile  life,  or  has  he  some 
other  course  in  view  ?  " 

"  The  mercantile  profession  has  been  that  for  which  he 
has  been,  I  may  say,  industriously  preparing.  He  has  a 
good  knowledge  of  arithmetic  —  not  so  rapid  in  his  cal 
culations  as  some,  but  very  correct ;  he  also  writes  a  fail- 
hand.  Book-keeping  he  has  not  yet  attempted." 

Mr.  Stanley  then  went  into  particulars,  not  necessary 
to  detail  here,  and  after  all  explanations  had  been  entered 
into,  Mr.  Ransom  ordered  William  to  be  called. 

He  was  at  work  near  the  barn,  husking  corn.  He  came 
in  just  as  he  was,  for  the  servant  told  him  he  was  wanted 
immediately.  Although  clad  in  his  working  clothes,  he 
manifested  no  feeling  on  that  account,  but  saluted  the 
gentleman  with  a  pleasant  and  easy  manner. 

As  he  came  up  to  Mr.  Ransom,  the  latter  took  his  hand 
and  William  stood  beside  him. 

"  You  will  remember,  Willie,  that  I  have  endeavored 
to  impress  upon  you  the  truth,  that  the  path  of  duty  was 
the  surest  way  to  peace  of  mind  and  permanent  prosperi 
ty.  I  believe  in  the  little  affair  in  which  you  was  con 
cerned  yesterday,  you  conscientiously  endeavored  to  fol 
low  that  path.  In  doing  so  you  have  gained  the  appro 
bation  of  your  own  conscience,  which  is  a  great  thing  to 
begin  with,  and  besides  that,  you  have  won  the  esteem  of 
one  person  at  least,  who  is  now  ready  to  give  you  a  fair 
chance  for  a  start  in  life.  Mr.  Stanley,  here,  offers  to  take 
you  into  his  store  —  to  provide  for  you,  to  teach  you  busi 
ness,  and  prepare  you  for  taking  your  stand  among  mer 
chants,  and  winning  by  your  own  exertions  an  independ 
ence.  What  say  you  to  it,  are  you  ready  to  go  ?  " 

William  was  so  confounded  by  the  unexpected  pro 
posals,  that  for  a  moment  he  could  not  answer.  His  eye 
was  keenly  fixed  on  Mr.  Stanley.  At  length  turning  to 
Mr.  Ransom, 

"  Can  you  spare  me,  sir  ?  " 

This  was  spoken  with  so  much  meaning  that  Mr.  Ran 
som  was  deeply  moved. 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  99 

"  It  will  be  hard  parting  with  you,  Willie,  for  you  and 
I  are  bound  together  by  no  common  tie.  But  the  hour 
has  come  for  which  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  prepare 
you,  and  for  which  you  have  been  very  ambitious  to  pre 
pare  yourself.  You  have  been  faithful  in  your  obedience 
to  me,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  faithful  to  Mr. 
Stanley,  and  will  win  his  confidence  as  you  have  mine, 
and  he  can  do  for  you  much  more  than  I  ever  could." 

"No  one  can  ever  do  for  me,  sir,  what  you  have  done." 
This  was  said  with  great  difficulty,  for  the  big  tears  were 
falling  fast. 

"  He  is  right  there,"  said  Mr.  Stanley.  "  No  one  can 
ever  do  for  him,  sir,  what  you  have  done.  You  have  laid 
the  foundation  on  which  his  future  depends.  You  have 
been  dealing  with  his  moral  nature,  and  your  image  will 
be  mingled  with  all  the  better  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
his  life,  and  I  will  venture  now,  if  he  would  express  his 
whole  mind  that  he  would  say,  '  no  one  can  be  to  him 
what  you  have  been  and  are.'" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  do  think  so,  I  know  it,"  said  "William. 

"  And  I  will  now  leave  the  matter,"  said  Mr.  Stanley, 
rising  to  depart.  "  Master  William  can  think  of  my  prop 
osition,  and  make  his  mind  in  the  course  of  the  day  to  ac 
cept  or  not." 

William  looked  at  Mr.  Ransom,  earnestly. 

"  My  mind  is  made  up  now,  sir,  if  you  are  willing." 

"  I  am,  and  think  it  best  that  you  should  go." 

"  I  thank  you,  sir,  most  truly,"  -said  William  turning  to 
Mr.  Stanley,  "  for  your  kind  offer.  I  will  most  gladly  ac 
cept  of  it." 

"  Then  our  business  is  finished." 

"  Do  you  return  to  New  York  soon,  Mr.  Stanley  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Ransom. 

"  It  was  my  design  to  have  left  here  on  Monday,  but  a 
day  or  two  will  make  no  material  difference.  How  soon 
can  Master  William  be  in  readiness  ?  " 

"  No  doubt,  sir,  by  Wednesday  next." 

"  Then  let  that  be  the  day." 

In  the  arrangement  with  Mr.  Stanley,  one  of  the  items 
of  consequence  was,  that  William  was  to  live  in  his  fam 
ily,  and  a  most  happy  one  for  the  boy  ;  but  under  the  cir- 


100  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

cumstances,  Mr.  Ransom  perceived  it  would  require  on 
the  part  of  the  youth  more  than  ordinary  care  to  main 
tain  his  right  position  as  a  member  of  the  household  and 
a  clerk  in  "the  store,  and  he  thought  best  to  have  a  free 
conversation  with  him  on  the  subject. 

"  I  have  told  you,  William,  that  you  are  to  become  a 
member  of  Mr.  Stanley's  family,  as  well  as  a  clerk  in  his 
business  establishment,  and  you  will  have  need  to  exer 
cise  care  in  so  conducting  yourself,  that  the  freedom  you 
may  be  allowed  in  the  house,  does  not  lead  you  to  disre 
gard  the  strict  discipline  so  requisite  in  the  place  of  busi 
ness  ;  for  many  things  which  might  be  proper  in  one  place, 
would  be  very  much  out  of  character  in  the  other.  Mer 
chants,  in  general,  expect  from  their  clerks,  especially  the 
younger  ones,  a  strict  and  prompt  obedience  to  their  or 
ders.  There  must  be  on  your  part  a  manifest  readiness 
to  do  on  the  instant  whatever  you  may  be  required  to  do, 
and  your  mind  must  be  intent  on  the  business  before  you. 
You  must  be  observing  of  all  that  is  going  on,  and  in  that 
way  make  yourself  familiar  with  the  details  of  business. 
Let  your  whole  energies  be  in  exercise,  and  throw  your 
self  heart  and  soul  into  the  part  entrusted  to  you. 
'Whatever  your  hand  finds  to  do,  do  it  with  all  your 
might.'  Never  disturb  yourself  about  the  future,  nor  be 
too  anxious  about  what  you  are  to  do  when  you  shall  ar 
rive  at  age.  Your  great  object  should  be  to  serve  faith 
fully  your  employer  while  under  his  control,  and  make 
yourself  master  of  your  business.  When  the  time  comes 
for  you  to  take  the  responsibility  of  business  upon  your 
self —  if  you  are  thoroughly  competent,  openings  will 
present  themselves  —  but  I  would  advise  you  to  '  look 
around  'well,  before  you  take  the  burden  and  care  on  your 
own  shoulders.  You  will  be  more  likely  to  succeed  by 
commencing  for  yourself  at  thirty  than  at  twenty-one, 
and  at  thirty-five  than  at  thirty.  Many  wish  to  make  a 
short  cut  to  fortune  and  independence,  and  start  for  them 
selves  very  early  in  life.  In  most  cases  they  only  involve 
themselves  and  others  in  misfortune.  It  takes  a  long 
time  to  obtain  the  experience  essential  to  success. 

"  Merchants  not  only  require  on  the  part  of  their  clerks 
strict  obedience,  attention  and  wide  awake  energy,  but 


LOOKING   ABOUND 


101 


also  deferential  and  respectful  deportment  in  their  pres 
ence  ;  but  as  you  have  already  learned  the  more  important 
rules  of  politeness,  you  will  only  need  to  pay  due  regard 
to  these,  in  order  to  bear  yourself  correctly  in  this  mat 
ter.  Deference  and  respect  to  superiors  lie  at  the  founda 
tion  of  the  true  gentleman's  character. 

"  There  is  but  one  item  more  I  would  mention,  and  it 
may  be  a  matter  of  some  moment  to  you.  I  have  been 
pleased  hitherto  with  your  treatment  of  ladies,  whether 
old  or  young ;  you  have  been  duly  attentive  and  respect 
ful,  while  at  the  same  time  there  has  been  a  reticence  con 
nected  with  your  attention  that  I  highly  commend.  ISTow 
as  you  are  to  be  situated,  this  peculiarity  may  be  of  great 
use  to  you.  Mr.  Stanley  has  but  one  child,  a  daughter, 
the  one  with  whom  you  have  already  a  slight  acquain 
tance.  Of  course,  it  is  not  every  young  man  of  your  age 
that  he  would  take  into  his  house  and  allow  the  privileges 
of  an  inmate  there  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  the  opinion  he 
has  formed  of  your  character  as  a  gentleman,  has  had  its 
weight  in  giving  you  the  offer  of  so  favorable  a  situation. 
Think  of  that,  and  govern  yourself  accordingly.  The 
young  lady  may,  as  she  grows  up,  prove  to  be  very  amia 
ble  and  attractive,  or  qualities  may  develop  of  an  oppo 
site  character.  The  part  of  wisdom  for  you,  as  it  seems 
to  me,  would  be  that  you  should  be  ever  ready  to  oblige, 
and  attentive  to  every  request  on  the  part  of  the  young 
lady,  but  not  to  allow  your  intimacy  to  run  into  familiar 
ity.  Be  kind  and  courteous,  but  let  there  be  a  line  mark 
ed  and  definite,  beyond  which  you  do  not  allow  yourself 
to  pass.  This  is  my  advice. 

"Another  item  of  serious  importance  to  you,  is  that 
you  do  not  lay  too  much  stress  on  the  apparent  friendly 
feelings  of  your  employer.  Base  all  your  calculations  on 
his  self  interest,  and  your  own  ability  to  be  useful.  Mer 
chants,  in  general  cannot  afford  to  be  governed  by  their 
feelings ;  they  can  no  doubt  materially  assist  the  young 
man  who  passes  up  through  their  hands,  and  many  of 
them  do  ;  but  seldom  indeed  unless  they  find  from  expe 
rience  that  his  services  are  essential  to  their  own  interest. 
The  only  place  where  you  can  expect  to  gain  such  confi 
dence  and  regard  as  may  lead  to  your  advancement,  will 


102  LOOKING    AROUND. 

be  in  the  store  and  based  entirely  on  your  efficiency.  It  is 
a  common  saying  '  there  is  no  friendship  in  trade  ; '  perhaps 
this  may  in  general  be  true.  Your  safest  course  will  be 
to  act  upon  it,  so  far  as  not  to  rely  upon  any  demonstra 
tions  of  friendly  feelings  which  may  be  manifested  either 
by  the  family,  or  Mr.  Stanley  himself;  in  fine,  feel  that 
you  stand  alone,  and  having  a  fair  chance,  ask,  nor  expect 
any  favors  beyond  that." 

It  might  perhaps  have  been  better  for  William  if  Mr.  Ran 
som  had  omitted  this  last  item  of  advice.  The  youth  was 
already  quite  disposed  to  throw  off  all  dependence,  and  to 
feel  himself  alone  in  the  world.  He  had  indeed  been  very 
confidential  with  Mr.  Ransom,  and  the  treatment  of  the 
latter  had  been  highly  calculated  to  win  his  confidence, 
but  his  disposition,  either  from  nature  or  from  the  circum 
stances  in  which  he  had  been  early  placed,  was  inclined  to 
reticence.  He  was  conscientious  and  acted  from  princi 
ple,  but  not  careful  what  opinion  others  formed  of  his 
acts,  —  the  correct  course,  no  doubt,  as  a  general  rule, 
and  yet  it  may  be  carried  to  extremes,  especially  by  one 
in  the  beginning  of  his  career.  Youth  cannot  be  possess 
ed  of  experience  ;  it  can  only  be  acquired  by  months  and 
years  of  earnest  struggle  in  the  battle  field  of  life,  and  it 
would  prevent  many  a  sad  disaster,  if  the  young  adven 
turer  could  have  by  his  side  a  veteran  of  the  field  to  tell 
him  where  the  pitfalls  are  and  when  to  exert  his  strength 
and  when  to  halt. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

William  Herbert  had  passed  through  the  ordeal  of  a 
junior  clerk  in  an  establishment  where  several  subordi 
nates  were  required,  especially  during  the  more  busy  sea 
sons  of  the  year,  and  in  three  years  was  enabled  to  act 
quite  efficiently  as  salesman.  The  business  which  Mr. 
Stanley  pursued,  was  that  of  a  wholesale  dry  goods  job 
ber.  The  store  was  in  Pearl  street,  between  Maiden  Lane 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  103 

and  John  street,  and  the  dwelling  house  was  in  John  street, 
at  no  great  distance  from  the  store.  He  had  been  suc 
cessful  and  had  passed  through  that  period,  in  the  history 
of  most  merchants,  when  the  scales  seem  to  be  evenly 
held  for  a  while,  between  success  and  failure.  He  aimed 
not  at  doing  a  large  business,  and  when  he  found  himself 
getting  before  hand,  became  more  and  more  cautious,  and 
as  his  means  increased,  seemed  less  and  less  desirous  of 
involving  himself  in  liabilities  that  might  by  any  possibil 
ity  lead  him  into  trouble.  Of  course  he  did  not  accumu 
late  fast,  but  in  the  course  of  years,  his  ledger  showed  a 
very  handsome  balance  on  the  right  side  of  his  account. 

The  precautions  which  Mr.  Ransom  had  given  proved 
to  him  of  great  value.  He  soon  found  that  Mr.  Stanley 
at  home  and  Mr.  Stanley  in  his  office  were  as  unlike  as 
possible.  At  the  former  he  was  mild,  cheerful  and  very 
social,  and  William  was  made  to  feel  as  free  as  if  he  had 
been  a  near  relative.  ^At  the  latter,  the  strictest  discipline 
was  maintained,  promptness  and  strict  attention,  and  con 
stant  labor  of  some  kind  were  required.  Errors  were  re 
buked  —  not  indeed  with  an  angry  tone  —  but  in  such  a 
decided  manner,  as  to  be  keenly  felt,  especially  by  one  of 
a  sensitive  temperament ;  but  very  fortunate  it  was  for  the 
lone  youth  that  he  had  such  an  ardent  desire  to  succeed. 
His  mind  was  so  intent  upon  the  one  great  object  before 
him,  very  seldom  did  it  happen  that  a  rebuke  was  suffer 
ed.  How  well  he  pleased  his  employer  he  could  only  tell 
by  the  increasing  responsibilities  thrust  upon  him,  for  at 
home  no  allusion  was  ever  made  to  business  matters.  - 

Miss  Eva  had  now  reached  an  age  that  began  to  tell 
upon  her  future  character.  The  graces  of  her  person,  as 
well  as  the  qualities  of  her  mind  and  heart,  were  unfold 
ing  in  beauty  and  loveliness.  Apparently  unconscious  her 
self  of  any  peculiar  chai-ms,  her  freedom  from  vanity  and 
affectation,  her  open,  almost  child-like  simplicity,  added 
much  to  her  attractions,  especially  to  those  who  were 
privileged  with  such  intimacy  as  would  natarally  be  en 
joyed  by  members  of  the  same  family. 

The  peculiar  circumstances  under  which  William  and 
she  had  made  their  first  acquaintance,  brought  them  per 
haps  into  a  closer  relation,  into  a  more  free  and  cordial 


104  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

correspondence  than  would  have  taken  place  had  he  come 
to  b^j  house  under  an  introduction  from  her  father  as  one 
whom  he  had  engaged  as  a  clerk  in  his  store.  They  had 
been  the  cause  of  trial  to  each  other.  They  had  both  ac 
knowledged  a  wrong  done,  and  aske*d  forgiveness  ;  and  in 
this  act  the  fountain  of  their  youthful  feelings  had  been 
moved  to  its  very  depths ;  and  thus  mingling  under  in 
tense  excitement  —  for  a  little  while  flowing  together  in 
gladness  —  it  would  not  be  strange  if  the  after  intimacy 
should  be  of  a  tender  and  peculiar  nature.  "William  was 
something  more  to  Ev^,  than  her  father's  clerk.  There 
was  something  about  him  that  elevated  him  in  her  view 
above  all  her  companions  of  his  sex.  There  was  also  a 
mystery  about  his  family  relatives  that  helped  much  to  in 
crease  the  charm.  Mr.  Ransom  had  not  thought  proper 
to  reveal  all  he  knew  about  that  matter.  AJ1  he  said  was 
that  the  parentage  of  the  young  man  was  highly  respec 
table  —  that  his  father  was  a  gentleman  of  refinement 
and  intelligence  ;  that  in  consequence  of  a  second  mar 
riage,  Willi'am  preferred  leaving  home,  in  order  to  seek  his 
own  fortune. 

The  manner  in  which  William  treated  Miss  Eva,  had 
also  a  tendency  to  win  her  respect  and  admiration.  He 
was  always  ready  to  do  her  bidding,  but  not  forward  to 
offer  his  services  ;  free  to  converse  with  her  on  any  topic 
she  might  advance,  but  seldom  commencing  any  subject 
of  his  own  accord.  When  invited  by  her  to  be  her  com 
panion  at  an  evening  party,  he  seemed  to  acquiesce  rather 
in  deference  to  her  request,  than  from  any  special  pleas 
ure  to  himself.  He  often  on  rainy  days  waited  upon  her 
to  her  school,  and  went  for  her  at  its  close  if  the  state  of 
the  weather  required  it,  but  no  one,  not  even  the  young 
lady  herself,  could  have  supposed  from  his  manner  at  the 
time  that  it  was  particularly  a  gratification  to  him.  His 
father  on  two  occasions  came  to  see  him,  and  all  the  fam 
ily  were  delighted  with  the  visitor ;  his  fine  personal  ap 
pearance,  his  easy,  refined  manners,  and  his  conversation 
al  powers,  won  their  applause,  and  William  took  a  higher 
place  than  ever  in  their  consideration. 

Twp  years  more  have  passed,  and  tidings   came  of  his 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  105 

father's  death.  He  had  of  course  permission  to  go  to  his 
home,  to  pay  the  last  tokens  of  respect  and  affection, 

On  his  return  he  seemed  greatly  dejected,  and  disposed 
to  keep  by  himself.  He  had  evidently  passed  through  a 
severe  ordeal.  The  color  had  fled  from  his  cheek,  and 
there  was  a  sadness  to  the  expression  of  his  countenance, 
that  attracted  the  notice  of  all ;  but  as  he  avoided  con 
versation  and  courted  seclusion,  no  one  felt  at  liberty  to 
break  the  spell  of  silence,  or  to  intrude  upon  his  sorrow. 

Eva,  however,  could  not  rest  satisfied  without  an  at 
tempt  at  consolation.  Hitherto  most  pleasant  had  been 
their  intercourse,  and  her  heart  was  by  no  means  insensi 
ble-  to  the  gentler  passions.  Nothing  had  been  said  by 
either,  that  could  have  been  construed  into  an  expression 
of  peculiar  interest,  and  yet  she  felt  as  sure  as  she  wished 
to  be  that  she  was  more  to  him  than  all  others,  and  she 
firmly  believed  that  he  also  felt  assured  that  he  was  dear 
to  her,  and  she  was  willing  he  should  think  so.  Those 
tender  emotions  which  so  quickly  vibrate  in  sympathy 
within  the  hearts  of  the  pure,  need  not  always  the  aid  of 
words  to  kindle  them,  or  to  bring  to  the  knowledge  of 
each  other  their  intensity.  Love,  pure  and  true,  had 
wound  her  golden  chain  about  them,  little  by  little,  with 
out  parade  or  noise,  and  yet  with  them  there  was  no  clan 
destine  dealing  —  nothing  done  by  either  of  set  purpose 
to  win  the  other's  heart.  But  they  loved  —  they  were 
conscious  of  it  —  and  while  William  had  never  declared 
his  passion,  Eva  had  takenjio  pains  to  conceal  her  feel 
ings.  And  it  was  not  in  her  nature  to  know  that  one  so 
dear  to  her  had  been  stricken  by  the  hand  of  sorrow,  and 
not  let  him  feel  how  truly  she  sympathized  with  him.  It 
was  of  course  her  wish  to  see  him  alone,  but  difficulties 
for  some  days  were  in  the  way  of  that.  He  was  in  the 
store  through  the  day,  except  at  meal  time  and  when  the 
store  was  closed  for  the  evening. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  evening,  and  William  was 
seated  alone,  near  the  window,  in  their  parlor.  She  en 
tered  the  room,  and  coming  up  to  him  said  :  "  Do  you  not 
feel  like  taking  a  walk  on  the  Battery  this  pleasant  eve 
ning  ?  "  «  By  all  means  if  you  wish  it."  But  little  was 
said  by  either  until  they  reached  that  beautiful  prome- 
5* 


106  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

nade.  It  was  not  then  what  it  has  now  become,  and 
those  who  remember  its  days  of  beauty  and  respectabili 
ty,  cannot  but  regret  that  so  lovely  a  location  should  have 
been  allowed  to  be  desecrated  by  the  low  and  abandoned. 

"  It  must  be  a  terrible  blow  to  lose  a  parent,"  was  the 
first  word  she  said. 

After  a  moment's  silence,  he  replied  : 

"  I  have  lost  both  of  mine." 

"  Is  not  your  mother  living  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Are  your  sisters  then  all  alone  ?  " 

"  Their  mother  is  living." 

"  They  are  not  your  own  sisters,  then  ?  " 

"Not  in  one  sense,  and  yet  they  seem  very  near  to 
roe." 

"  Are  they  much  younger  than  you  ?  " 

"  One  is  twelve  and  the  other  fourteen." 

"  It  must  be  hard  for  them,  and  for  you,  to  be  thus  sep 
arated." 

"  Yes,  it  was  a  severe  trial  to  us  when  I  left  them  three 
days  ago ;  they  hung  on  my  neck,  and  it  almost  broke  my 
heart  to  tear  myself  from  them.  They  have  lost  all,  as 
well  as  I  have." 

"  But  their  mother  is  living ! " 

"  You  judge  of  a  mother  from  your  own  experience. 
Had  you  one  whose  heart  was  callous  to  all  love  for  any 
thing  but  sordid  gain  —  who  knew  not  one  tender  emo 
tion  —  who  could  see  husband  and  children  carried  to  the 
grave  without  a  tear,  provided  they  did  not  take  with 
them  the  gold  she  worships  —  you  would  know  then,  that 
a  mother  may  be  nothing  more  than  a  prudent  manager." 

"  William,  you  say  hard  things.  Can  this  be  so !  I 
sincerely  pity  them  and  you,  but  why  have  you  never  told 
me  this  before  ?  Would  it  not  be  a  relief  for  you  at  times 
to  let  out  some  of  the  trials  of  your  heart ;  dare  you  not 
trust  me  as  a  friend  ?  You  are  not  happy ;  some  burden 
seems  always  pressing  upon  you.  I  feel  for  you,  but  know 
not  what  to  say  that  might  give  you  relief.  Why  is  it  af 
ter  so  long  an  intimacy  that  you  still  shut  up  your  heart 
within  itself?" 

"  My  trials  have  been  of  a  kind  almost  too  sacred  for 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  107 

the  ear  of  friendship.  I  could  not  expose  them  without 
unveiling  secrets  that  had  better  be  shut  out  from  the 
world  forever.  Often  and  often  when  we  have  been  walk 
ing  together  as  we  are  now,  have  I  been  on  the  point  of 
asking  you  if  I  might  look  upon  you  as  a  sister,  and  tell 
you  all  I  felt  —  but  —  " 

"  And  did  you  doubt  of  my  willingness  to  take  that 
place  ?  or  my  honor  to  keep  most  sacredly  what  in  confi 
dence  you  told  me  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  oh  no !  it  was  not  that ;  but  there  are  things 
which  even  the  nearest  kindred  had  better  keep  within 
their  own  breasts.  A  parent's  trials  may  be  of  such  a  na 
ture  that  children  should  never  even  mention  them  to 
each  other.  But  that  chapter  is  closed.  He  who  has 
been  upon  my  heart  so  long  —  whose  heavy  grief  has 
weighed  upon  my  spirits  with  increasing  sadness  as  my 
years  have  advanced,  is  now  at  rest.  The  sorrow  of  his 
life  has  ceased  — the  memory  of  the  past  alone  haunts  me 
now,  and  every  act  of  my  life  that  has  caused  a  pang  to  a 
heart  already  wrung  with  anguish,  pierces  me  like  a  dag 
ger." 

"  But  I  cannot  believe,  William,  that  you  have  ever  been 
an  undutiful  son !  " 

"  I  have  been  a  loving  child.  My  heart  has  been  bound 
up  in  that  of  my  father.  Every  sigh  which  escaped  him 
in  my  presence,  troubled  me ;  and  when  I  have  seen  him 
walk  the  room  with  the  deep  marks  of  sorrow  and  des 
pair  upon  his  brow,  I  have  tried  to  say  words  of  cheer 
and  comfort ;  and  my  daily  prayer  to  God  has  been,  that 
he  might  be  sustained,  and  in  some  way,  I  knew  not  how, 
delivered  from  his  trials.  Yet  for  all  this  I  have  caused 
him  sorrow  ;  for  part,  perhaps  the  greater  part  of  his  dis 
tress  was  on  my  account,  and  if  I  had  borne  with  patience 
what  I  had  to  endure  —  if  I  could  have  heard  my  moth 
er's  name  —  " 

Here  William  paused.  He  could  go  no  further  without 
revealing  what  must  lead  to  a  full  development. 

"  I  do  not  ask  you,  William,  to  tell  me  what  it  would 
distress  you  to  reveal.  I  only  want  you  to  feel  that  if  at 
any  time  it  would  be  a  relief  to  unburden  your  mind,  you 


108  LOOKING   AROUND. 

have  a  friend  to  hear  your  trouble  and  to  sympathize  most 
heartily  in  all  your  griefs." 

He  took  her  hand,  and  gently  pressing  it  raised  it  to 
his  lips.  There  was  no  sign  on  her  part  that  the  act  was 
offensive.  She  had  no  desire  to  conceal  what  she  felt  — 
to  have  done  so  would  have  been  prudery.  She  was  in 
earnest,  not  for  tokens  of  his  love  —  they  were  not  needed 
—  but  to  gain  his  confidence,  to  win  him  to  a  free  com 
munion  on  such  topics  as  might  lead  her  into  his  secret 
trials,  that  she  might,  as  much  as  possible,  bear  part  of  the 
burden  with  him.  After  walking  a  short  distance  in  si 
lence,  he  again  spoke : 

"I  thank  you.  I  want  to  tell  you  all  —  I  must  —  I 
will.  I  know  you  will  pity  me,  even  if  you  should  not 
approve." 

And  he  told  her  all.  The  secrets  of  his  past  history,  to 
the  day  they  first  were  brought  together,  were  unfolded— 
scenes  he  had  never  exposed  to  Mr.  Ransom  himself. 

•"  And  now,  Eva,"  he  said  as  he  closed,  "  you  know  all 
my  story,  and  will  not  perhaps  think  as  well  of  me  as  you 
have  done,  but  it  will  be  a  relief  to  my  mind,  to  know 
that  you  at  least,  are  not  ignorant  of  the  severe  ordeal 
through  which  I  have  passed." 

"  And  I  am  glad  you  have  told  me,  William.  You  have 
suffered  more  than  I  could  have  imagined,  and  I  do  not 
think  you  have  cause  to  blame  yourself  for  one  act  of 
your  life.  I  may  not  be  an  impartial  judge.  Oh,  dear  ! 
how  ungrateful  I  have  been !  what  you  have  just  told  me 
makes  me  feel  more  sad  on  my  account  than  yours." 

"Why  so,  Eva?  or  what  possible  connection  have  you 
with  my  trials,  that  you  need  blame  yourself  for?  You 
could  not  sympathize  with  sufferings  you  knew  nothing 
of." 

"  You  do  not  comprehend.  Your  story  has  made  me 
contrast  my  own  happy  lot  during  the  same  years.  All 
with  me  has  been  peace  and  love.  Every  wish  gratified 
—  no  care  —  no  fear  of  want  —  no  stranger's  hands  ad 
ministering  to  my  necessities.  My  cup  has  been  running 
over  with  mercies,  and  how  little  have  I  realized  the  kind 
ness  of  my  Heavenly  Father !  I  shall  feel  different  after 
this.  Your  sad  hours  will  come  up  — I  mean  those  that. 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  109 

are  past.  I  shall  think  of  your  boyhood  —  alone,  cheerless, 
worried  by  ill  temper,  neglected  by  the  unfeeling,  hungry 
at  times  even  to  suffering,  keeping  your  trials  in  your  own 
young  heart  lest  your  father  should  have  an  additio^  to 
his  sorrows.  Yes,  these  will  come  up  to  me  when  I  am  en 
joying  the  rich  blessings  of  parental  love  and  all  the  com 
forts  of  my  happy  home ;  and  I  shall  be  more  humble  and 
more  grateful." 

"  If  my  story  should  thus  affect  you,  Eva,  I  do  not  re 
gret  that  I  have  told  it.  If  anything  in  my  life  can  ben 
efit  you,  I  may  feel  that  I  have  not  suffei-ed  in  vain." 

"  Yes,  William,  and  I  firmly  believe  the  bitterness  of 
your  early  days  will  be  compensated  by  a  future  of  use 
fulness  and  peace.  Do  you  not  think  that  those  tears  you 
shed  in  secret  places  for  your  father,  and  every  effort  you 
made  to  cheer  and  calm  his  distracted  heart,  and  every 
prayer  you  offered  for  him,  are  remembered  ?  Oh,  you 
have  a  much  higher  claim  to  the  blessing  on  an  obedient 
child  than  I  can  ever  have." 

"  Do  not  say  so.  I  claim  no  merit  for  the  past,  and  can 
only  hope  that  I  may  be  able  in  time,  to  atone  for  defi 
ciencies  in  my  conduct  to  my  father,  by  taking  his  place 
as  far  as  I  can  to  my  sisters.  I  shall  throw  my  whole  life 
into  an  effort  to  rescue  them  from  their  present  unhappy 
condition." 

"  But  surely  their  own  mother  does  not  treat  them  as 
she  did  you  !  " 

"  Not  in  the  same  way.  They  are  well  clothed  and  fed, 
but  young  women  need  more  than  these.  They  need  cul 
ture.  My  father  has  devoted  his  later  years  to  their  im 
provement,  and  I  have  been  astonished  how  much  he  has 
accomplished  in  spite  of  all  the  obstacles  in  his  and  their 
way.  But  that  assistance  they  can  have  no  more,  and 
they  feel  it  bitterly.  Schooling  they  are  not  allowed,  and 
for  this^eason,  '  they  can  read,  write  and  cipher,'  and  that 
theif  mother  thinks  is  all  they  need.  Their  only  chance 
for  improvement  now  is  from  reading ;  and  happily  my 
father's  books  are  th^re,  and  they  regard  with  sacred  rever 
ence  every  thing  that  once  was  his.  Oh,  Eva,  you  cannot 
think  what  joy  was  mingled  with  my  teai-s  when,  alone  to 
gether  with  them  they  poured  out  all  their  hearts,  and  told 


110  LOOKING   AKOUND. 

me  of  their  troubles  and  of  their  fears  for  the  future,  and 
then  they  said,  *  do  you  know,  dear  brother,  what  our 
father  suffered.  How  kind,  patient  and  loving  he  was, 
and  now  perhaps  we  shall  hear  his  name  lightly  spoken 
of,'  and  they  wept,  and  I  wept  with  them,  and  if  I  had  the 
power  would  have  brought  them  away  from  a  place  that 
will  only  be  to  them  a  place  of  gloom  and  trial." 

Eva  was  deeply  affected.  She  could  not  restrain  her 
tears,  and  these  tokens  of  her  sympathy  were  like  a  pre 
cious  balm  to  the  wounded,  troubled  heart  of  her  com 
panion.  And  when  she  again  spoke,  the  tones  of  her  voice 
were  low  and  tender,  just  suited  to  his  feelings ;  his  heart 
gleamed  with  strange  emotion — she  never  seemed  so 
near  to  him  before,  and  words  of  love  were  almost  tremb 
ling  on  his  lips,  and  yet  he  did  not  utter  them.  He  felt  at 
once  it  would  be  wrong.  She  had  not  asked  him  to  walk 
with  her,  with  any  thought  not  the  most  distant  that  such 
a  subject  would  be  introduced  ;  it  would  be  an  insult  to 
her  generous,  noble  heart.  Her  only  purpose  was  to  try 
and  open  that  secret  chamber  where  he  kept  cloistered 
some  heart  trouble  —  to  help  him  as  a  sister  might,  by 
the  sweet  power  of  sympathy,  and  her  whole  effort  was 
accomplished.  He  felt  stronger  to  do  the  work  of  life 
entailed  upon  him.  The  dark  cloud  which  had  been  about 
him  lifted  up,  and  a  brighter  atmosphere  surrounded  and 
sparkled  on  his  path. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Mr.  Stanley  had  for  some  time  been  in  feeble  health. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  marked  symptoms  of  a  serious 
disease.  He  had  indeed  a  cough,  but  that  was  not  thought 
of  much  consequence  —  "  it  was  constitutional ;  he  had  al 
ways  been  subject  to  it  at  times."  His  strength,  however 
was  failing.  He  could  not  endure  what  he  did  a  few 
months  past.  The  debility  was  attributed  to  the  influ- 


LOOKING   ABOUND. 


Ill 


ence  of  spring  weather  ;  "  when  that  became  settled  and 
the  steady  warmth  of  summer  was  established,  he  would 
feel  better,"  but  the  summer  heat,  only  increased  the  weak 
ness.  The  country  air  was  tried,  first  at  the  sea-side,  and 
then  far  inland  on  the  mountains.  As  the  fall  approach 
ed,  the  symptoms  became  more  unfavorable.  He  could 
no  longer  attend  to  his  business.  Soon  for  days  he  did 
not  leave  his  chamber,  and  at  length  he  lay  upon  his  bed, 
with  the  consciousness  that  his  struggle  for  life  was  over, 
and  his  work  done. 

During  all  this  period,  William  had  the  burden  of  the 
business  resting  upon  him.  He  saw  little  of  Eva,  for  his 
stay  in  the  house  was  as  short  as  possible  —  merely  to  eat 
and  be  gone,  and  his  evenings  were  fully  occupied  at  the 
store,  often  until  late  at  night.  Mr.  Stanley  had  him  dai 
ly  at  his  bed-side  to  consult  with  him,  and  give  such  di 
rections  as  he  could,  and  at  times  talked  freely  about  his 
approaching  end,  and  about  what  he  wished  after  that 
event  should  have  taken  place.  He  spoke  to  him  as  if  he 
felt  that  the  care  of  those  dear  to  him,  would  devolve  on 
William,  and  as  if  it  was  a  great  relief  to  his  wearied 
mind,  that  one  would  be  with  them  in  whom  he  had  such 
perfect  confidence. 

One  day  as  William  was  about  to  leave  him,  he  called 
him  back. 

"  I  am  about  arranging  my  affairs.  I  feel  it  high  time. 
I  shall  leave  you  as  the  principal  manager,  but  have  con 
cluded  to  name  my  friend  Blanchard,  as  joint  executor 
with  you." 

William  was  startled  by  the  announcement,  and  for  a 
moment  did  not  reply,  and  Mr.  Stanley  continued. 

"  I  could  with  perfect  confidence  entrust  every  thing  to 
your  honesty  and  prudence,  but  you  know  Mr.  Blanchard 
is  a  near  friend ;  and  Mrs.  Stanley,  in  particular,  might  feel 
a  little  more  confidence  in  having  such  a  judicious  person 
connected  with  you.  All  you  will  have  to  do,  will  be  to 
consult  with  him  when  you  are  at  a  loss  as  to  what  course 
to  pursue.  I  shall  expect  the  business  to  be  continued  as 
it  has  been,  curtailed  of  course  at  first,  until  you  get  ad 
vanced  enough  from  your  own  means  to  go  on  as  you 
think  best.  Had  I  lived  you  would  have  been  my  part- 


112  LOOKING   AROUND. 

Tier.  I  feel  that  your  faithful  service  demanded  such  an 
act  on  my  part,  but  as  it  is,  I  shall  order  a  certain  amount 
of  capital  to  remain  in  the  business  for  a  few  years." 

William  knew  more  about  Mr.  Blanchard  than  Mr. 
Stanley  did,  although  the  latter  had  been  acquainted  with 
him  for  many  years.  He  knew  also  that  Mrs.  Stanley  was 
strongly  attached  to  Blanchard  and  his  wife  ;  their  word 
would  be  law  with  her,  he  himself  would  be  a  mere  ci 
pher,  and  might  be  involved  in  difficulties  and  perhaps  be 
placed  in  a  hostile  relation  to  the  family.  Mr.  Stanley  he 
knew  to  be  honorable  and  true,  but  not  shrewd  in  detect 
ing  evil.  Without  guile  himself,  he  did  not  suspect  it  in 
others.  Blanchard,  William  believed,  to  be  in  character 
the  opposite  of  that ;  and  he  had  his  own  reasons  for  be 
lieving  that  he  had  a  strange  prejudice  against  himself. 
Under  these  circumstances  to  be  placed  in  such  a  relation 
as  joint  executor  with  Mr.  Blanchard,  would  be  of  no  avail 
for  any  good  to  himself,  or  others.  He  therefore  replied  : 

"  I  thank  you  most  sincerely,  Mr.  Stanley,  for  all  the  in 
terest  you  have  hitherto  manifested  for  my  welfare,  and 
for  the  confidence  in  me  expressed  by  your  present  pro 
posal  ;  but  sir,  you  know  Mrs.  Stanley  would  naturally  con 
sult  with  Mr.  Blanchard.  I  might  not  think  as  they  did, 
I  could  not  well  set  my  opinion  in  opposition  ;  my  name  as 
executor  would,  I  am  convinced,  give  me  no  power,  and 
it  may  be,  sir,  that  both  Mrs.  Stanley  and  Mr.  Blanchard 
might  object  to  it.  Have  you  mentioned  to  them  your  de 
sign  ?  " 

"  I  have  not,  but  if  you  wish,  I  will  do  so." 

"  And  to  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  am  ready  in  every  way 
to  meet  your  wishes,  if  you  find  it  is  their  desire  that  thus 
it  should  be,  or  if  they  do  not  object,  I  shall  be  willing 
that  your  design  be  carried  into  execution." 

What  occurred  after  this,  William  knew  not,  but  he 
thought  the  conduct  of  Mrs.  Stanley  towai-ds  him,  was 
greatly  changed.  He  was  not  often  allowed  to  be  in  Mr. 
Stanley's  room  without  either  she  or  Mr.  Blanchard  were 
present.  It  might  have  been  accidental,  but  he  believed 
not ;  neither  was  he  allowed  to  watch  with  him  as  he  had 
been,  and  when  h'e  offered,  the  excuse  was, "  that  Mr.  Stan 
ley  was  so  low  now,  that  she  could  not  leave  him,"  or  that 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  113 

"  Mr.  Blanchard  was  such  an  experienced  nurse  in  sick 
ness,  it  would  be  better  that  he  should  be  with  him,  and 
he,  William,  must  be  very  tired."  The  latter  reason  he 
would  have  argued  against  and  put  down,  if  he  thought 
it  had  been  offered  in  sincerity." 

The  hour  of  trial  at  length  came,  and  the  house  which 
for  so  many  years  had  been  the  abode  of  comfort  and  hap 
piness,  was  turned  into  a  house  of  mourning. 

William  saw  nothing  of  Eva  in  the  hours  which  pre 
ceded  the  funeral,  for  the  family  of  Mr.  Blanchard  was 
there,  and  William,  conscious  that  he  was  no  favorite  with 
any  of  them,  and  finding  his  services  were  not  called  for, 
kept  out  of  the  way  as  much  as  possible.  And  when  the 
funeral  solemnities  were  over,  still  several  members  of 
that  family  remained,  and  Mrs.  Stanley,  overcome  by  the 
sad  loss  she  had  met  with  —  for  she  truly  loved  her  hus 
band. —  remained  in  seclusion ;  whether  confined  to  her 
bed,  William  did  not  know.  He  never  saw  her  again. 

It  was  the  third  day  after  the  funeral,  that  William  en 
tered  the  house  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon.  He 
had  brought  a  cartman  with  him,  the  cart  was  standing  at 
the  door,  and  the  man  at  his  request  followed  him  into' 
the  house,  and  up  into  his  room,  where  two  trunks  lay 
ready  locked  and  strapped.  One  contained  his  wearing 
apparel,  and  the  other  was  well  filled  with  books,  which 
in  the  course  of  years  he  had  purchased.  Immediately 
they  are  taken  up,  one  at  a  time,  and  placed  upon  the  cart. 
As  the  last  one  was  brought  out,  William  said : 

"  You  remember  the  direction  ?  " 

"  No.  —  Dey  street." 

"  Right.  Please  say  to  them  I  will  be  there  this  eve 
ning." 

"  I  will." 

William  now  stood  a  moment  upon  the  stoop.  He 
looked  towards  the  open  door  —  stepped  in  as  if  to  close 
it,  and  was  in  the  a<;t  of  doing  so,  when  he  saw  Eva  de 
scending  the  stairs,  and  approaching  him.  He  advanced 
to  meet  her,  their  hands  were  clasped  in  silence,  and  she 
led  him  into  the  parlor,  and  then  closed  the  door. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  William  ?  Jane  tells  me  you 
have  taken  away  your  trunks,  and  aile  going  to  leave  us  ! 
Can  this  be  true  ?  " 


114  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

He  was  too  much  overcome  at  once  to  make  any  reply. 
He  had  gone  through  a  scene  of  intense  excitement  that 
day.  Mr.  Blanchard  had  been  at  the  store  and  assumed 
direction.  That  of  course  William  had  anticipated,  for 
without  making  inquiry,  he  felt  well  assured  that  Mr. 
Blanchard  had  been  left  sole  manager  of  all  Mr.  Stanley's 
affairs,  and  as  a  collateral,  he  also  expected  that  his  own 
connection  with  the  business  would  be  of  short  duration, 
but  he  did  not  anticipate  a  rude  dismissal,  nor  insulting 
language,  and  his  proud  spirit  had  been  deeply  wounded. 
He  had  not  allowed  himself  to  use  any  expressions  that 
Mr.  Blanchard  could  make  a  handle  of  to  his  injury,  but 
had  maintained  the  character  of  a  gentleman  throughout 
the  trying  scene.  The  kind  manner  in  which  Eva  met 
him,  brought  back  at  once  all  the  past,  and  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  as  has  been  said,  there  was  no  reply ;  at  length  by 
a  powerful  effort  he  was  enabled  to  say : 

"  I  think  it  will  be  best." 

Eva  saw  his  emotion.  She  had  no  idea  what  peculiar 
cause  had  excited  him,  nor  could  she  imagine  that  his 
leaving  the  house  for  some  other  abode,  would  by  any 
means  suspend  the  relation  of  friendship  in  which  they 
had  now  for  so  long  stood  to  each  other. 

"  I  am  sorry  you  feel  it  best  to  do  so  just  at  this  time." 

He  handed  her  his  card  with  the  number  and  street  of 
his  new  place  of  residence,  and  said  as  she  took  it, 

"  I  shall  be  there  for  the  present,  and  when  I  leave  there 
will  advise  you  of  my  address,  so  that  whenever  I  can  be 
of  any  service  to  yourself  or  your  mother,  you  may  know 
where  I  may  be  found.  Any  thing  I  can  ever  do  for  ei 
ther  shall  be  done  to  the  very  extent  of  my  ability ;  your 
kindness  will  never  be  forgotten." 

"  But,  William  — "  she  had  taken  the  hand  he  had 
extended  as  he  was  about  to  go,  and  was  intending  to  re 
monstrate  against  this  sudden  step  ;  her  feelings,  however 
became  too  much  excited  to  allow  her  utterance.  She  fix 
ed  her  eye  steadily  upon  him  —  her  whole  heart  and  all 
they  had  been  to  each  other — the  past  and  the  present, 
seemed  to  him  concentrated  in  that  look.  He  could  not 
endm-e  it.  Suddenly  he  exclaimed  : 

"  Eva,  may  God  bless  you,"  and  then  broke  away  from 
her  and  departed. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

«  Hallo,  Captain  !  don't  haul  off  yet." 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  "  was  answered  by  a  short 
man  in  pea  jacket  and  tarpaulin  hat,  with  a  pleasant, 
though  weather  beaten  countenance,  who  was  standing  at 
th.e  stern  of  a  sloop  in  Albany  basin,  and  pulling  away 
upon  a  line  fastened  to  the  spile  at  the  end  of  the  pier. 
Two  other  hands  were  engaged  in  like  manner,  and  un 
der  their  united  strain  the  Polly  was  beginning  slowly  to 
move  from  her  station.  The  young  man,  who  was  a  mu 
latto,  had  no  doubt  been  running  for  some  distance,  for  he 
seemed  quite  out  of  breath,  and  having  aroused  the  at 
tention  of  the  captain  by  his  exclamation,  stood  for  some 
moments  without  seemingly  being  able  to  reply  to  the 
captain's  question.  The  order  "vast  hauling,"  •yws  in 
the  mean  time  given,  and  the  mulatto  boy  jumpra  on 
board. 

"  It's  you,  Jim,  is  it  ?"  said  the  captain.  "What's  to 
pay  now  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Roland  wants  to  go  up,  captain.  He's  coming  as 
fast  as  possible,  but  the  shoemaker  disappointed  him  about 
his  boots,  and  he's  just  gone  to  buy  a  pair.  He'll  be  down 
in  fifteen  minutes  or,  may  be  half  an  hour,  and  he  sends 
his  compliments  to  Captain  Joe,  and  says  he'll  be  'specially 
obliged  if  you  will  wait,  for  he  wants  to  go  very  urgent 
ly." 

Quite  a  number  of  passengers  were  on  board  the  Polly, 
and  being  on  deck,  as  passengers  usually  are  when  about 
to  start,  many  of  them  could  not  fail  to  hear  what  was 
just  then  going  on  ;  and  one  of  them,  a  gentleman  with 
somewhat  more  pretensions  as  to  dress  than  the  rest, 
stepped  xip,  and  with  a  consequential  air,  thus  addressed 
the  captain ; 

"Of  course,  captain,  you  do  not  mean  to  comply  with 
any  such  request.  You  was  to  have  sailed  at  one  o'clock, 


116  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

it  is  now  past  two ;  a  whole  hour  we  have  been  waiting 
here  for  one  thing  or  another.  I  tliink  it  a  piece  of  im 
pertinence  for  any  man  to  request  the  boat  to  be  detained 
just  for  his  convenience,  with  the  wind  fair  too,  and  a 
good  breeze." 

Captain  Joseph  Bluff,  was  a  very  civil  man  naturally, 
and  very  much  disposed  to  accommodate  all  round,  but  he 
knew  his  own  business  best,  or  thought  be  did;  at  least 
he  generally  acted  as  his  own  judgment  dictated,  without 
spending  much  breath  in  giving  reasons  for  his  conduct. 
His  only  reply  to  the  gentleman  was, 

"  Make  fast  the  stern  line,  boys." 

.  The  order  was  readily  obeyed,  and  the  sloop  Polly  lay 
still  again,  only  a  few  feet  in  advance  of  her  former  posi 
tion.  The  gentleman  being  somewhat  acquainted  with 
the  ways  of  the  world  from  having  been  many  years  en 
gaged  in  business  in  the  city,  was  able  to  come  to  a  cor 
rect  conclusion,  as  to  the  propriety  of  saying  anything 
further  to  Captain  Joe.  He  therefore  walked  from  the 
upper  deck,  and  mingled  with  the  passengei'S  who  were 
gathftted  around  the  cabin  gangway,  addressing  himself 
to  a  gentleman,  who  was  seated  with  a  little  girl  on  his 
knee,  upon  one  of  the  trunks,  of  which  several  stood  in 
that  vicinity. 

"A  pretty  piece  of  business  this,  Mr.  Sandfbrd,  that  you 
and  I,  and  all  the  rest  of  us  here,  should  be  kept  waiting 
for  some  country  booby  or  other ;  no  doubt  a  crony  of  the 
captain's.  These  country  folks  ought  to  have  some  les 
sons  given  them  as  to  the  necessity  of  promptness  and 
the  value  of  time." 

"I  fear  it  will  be  hard  teaching  them.  They  know 
nothing  about  change  hours,  or  bank  hours,  or  even  market 
hours.  A  half  hour  with  us  sometimes,  is  of  great  con 
sequence.  I  have  in  my  day  suffered  more  between  half 
past  two  and  three  o'clock,  than  I  ever  mean  to  suffer 
again  if  I  can  help  it.  It  seems  to  me  now,  Blanchard,  a 
delightful  tnought  that  I  arn  going  where  a  man  will  have 
no  such  terrible  master  over  him  as '  Bills  payable.'  Come, 
sit  down  man,  and  keep  cool.  It  will  be  a  matter  of  lit 
tle  moment  whether  we  get  off  an  hour  earlier  or  later. 
I  have  bid  good-bye  to  the  city,  squared  all  off  there  and 


LOOKING    ABOUND. 

mean  to  make  the  best  of  what  I  have  left,  and  not  worry 
myself  about  trifles.  It  is  the  best  way,  depend  upon  it." 

"Yes,  perhaps  it  is,  if  a  man  can  only  make  up  his  mind 
to  do  so,  but  I  hate  imposition,  whether  in  the  city  or 
country.  I  have  had  some  specimens  already  of  their  in 
dependent  ways,  but  I  have  been  up  to  them ;  I  let  them 
know  that  when  I  want  a  thing  done,  its  got  to  be  done, 
in  true  time  too.  You  know  I  told  you  I  have  been  build 
ing?  at  least  putting  an  addition  to  my  house." 

«  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  called  upon  one  or  two  of  the  best  builders  in 
that  region,  and  told  them  what  I  wanted,  and  showed 
them  the  plan  I  had  drawn  out  for  me  by  an  architect, 
and  asked  them  what  they  would  do  it  for,  and  how  long 
it  would  take  to  finish  it.  What  are  you  smiling  at,  Sand- 
ford  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking  what  answer  they  gave  you." 

«  What  do  you  think  it  was  ?  " 

"  I  can  guess  pretty  nearly,  I  think.  They  very  likely 
looked  some  time  at  the  plan  you  handed  them,  said  after 
a  while, '  that  it  would  add  to  the  looks  of  the  hoi^e  '  — 
'  that  they  would  like  to  undertake  the  job,'  '  that  they 
had  as  lief  work  for  you  as  for  anybody,'  and  '  whatever 
they  did  about  it  should  be  done  in  workmanlike  manner,' 
and  '  that  they  would  charge  fair  wages  and  their  board,' 
and  '  that  they  thought  the  thing  might  possibly  be  put  in 
shape  in  a  month  or  so  — just  according  to  the  number 
of  hands  you  are  mind  to  put  on.'  " 

"  Well,  you've  come  pretty  near  the  mark,  only  they 
seemed  to  put  the  matter  a  little  more  in  the  shape  of  a 
favor  to  be  done  for  me,  than  a  thing  of  any  consequence 
to  them.  It  was  a  little  too  much  so  for  me,  so  I  said 
nothing  further  to  them,  and  just  made  a  contract  with 
a  boss  in  the  city,  at  a  stipulated  price  and  to  be  done 
within  a  stipulated  time,  and  no  more  trouble  about  it  — 
board  nor  nothing.  And  I  should  advise  you,  if  you 
like  the  looks  of  things  at  my  place,  to  engage  the  same 
fellow,  unless  you  have  engaged  a  builder  already.  You 
mean  to  put  up  a  new  house,  I  suppose." 

"  Not  I.    Not  just  yet,  at  any  rate ;  we  shall  patch  up 


^_  •  .M*.    *          •>•'!; 

118  LOOKING   AROUND. 

the  old  one,  and  make  her  answer.  You  see,  Blanchard, 
I  am  leaving  the  city  for  good.  I  design  living  in  the 
country,  which  as  I  understand  matters  is  altogether  a 
different  thing  from  living  in  the  city." 

M  You  want  a  good  house,  though ! " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  want  a  comfortable,  tight  house,  and  I 
think  I  have  got  one.  It  is  plain  I  know  —  fine  furniture 
will  not  show  to  much  advantage  in  it  —  and  so  I  have 
made  a  clean  sweep  of  everything,  except  beds  and  plain 
est  carpets,  etc.  All  the  trumpery  that  cost  me  a  deal  of 
money  and  was  designed  chiefly  for  other  people  to  look 
at,  I've  cleared  out  —  sold  off.  I  have  had  enough  of 
slaving  myself,  wearing  out  soul  and  body  to  keep  up  ap 
pearances,  and  conform  to  city  fashions.  My  constitution 
wont  stand  it.  I  am  ten  years  older  than  I  ought  to  be." 

"  It  is  wearing,  I  know.  I  have  got  tired  of  it  myself, 
that's  a  fact.  I  am  retiring,  you  know  ;  left  business  and 
mean  to  rest  and  enjoy  myself  the  remainder  of  my  life, 
but  I  don't  see  why  fine  furniture  and  a  fine  house  cannot 
be  as  well  enjoyed  in  the  country  as  in  the  city,  if  a  man 
can  afford  it." 

"  True,  if  he  can  afford  it.  You  probably  can  live  as 
expensively  as  you  did  in  the  city,  and  leave  your  children 
enough  to  go  on  living  so  when  you  are  gone.  It  is  oth 
erwise  with  me.  I  leave  the  city  with  a  small  income 
and  mean  to  live  within  it.  I  expect  to  give  up  show  and 
style,  and  in  lieu  thereof,  to  have  freedom  from  distracting 
care,  time  to  think,  to  read,  to  enjoy  the  society  of  my 
wife  and  children,  and  the  beautiful  world  which  God  ha? 
given  us  to  live  in.  None  of  these  have  I  been  able  real 
ly  and  truly  to  have  much  satisfaction  from,  so  far ;  it  is 
as  you  know,  utterly  impossible  for  a  man  absorbed  in 
business,  with  all  the  crooks  and  turns  and  changes  in 
money  affairs,  to  have  anything  like  a  calm,  settled  state 
of  mind  —  utterly  out  of  the  question." 

How  long  the  two  gentlemen  might  have  kept  on  in 
the  track  to  which  their  conversation  had  diverged  there 
is  no  telling,  had  they  not  been  interrupted  by  the  stir  of 
the  men  with  the  little  captain  at  their  head,  now  in  good 
earnest,  heaving  away  some  at  the  long  line  at  the  head 
of  the  pier,  and  others  hoisting  the  jib.  The  mainsails 


**£• 

LOOKING   ABOUND.  119 

had  been  flapping  in  the  wind  with  its  peak  down  for 
more  than  an  hour.  The  gentleman  for  whom  the  delay 
of  the  last  half  hour  had  been  made,  had  no  doubt  come 
on  board,  but  so  unostentatiously  that  no  one  probably, 
except  the  captain  and  the  hands  who  knew  him  were 
aware  of  the  fact.  The  mulatto  boy,  however,  was  ob 
served  by  our  Mr.  Blanchard,  and  again  addressing  the 
gentleman  with  whom  he  had  been  holding  the  conversa 
tion  above  recorded. 

"  Sandford,  is  the  captain  going  at  last,  without  that 
fellow  he  has  kept  us  waiting  for.  The  negi*o,  I  see  is  on 
board.  Perhaps  he  was  the  gentleman  after  all  to  whom 
we  are  indebted  for  this  delay." 

"  I  see  there  a  man  pulling  in  the  slack  as  the  hands 
are  hoisting  the  jib,  who  don't  look  like  a  boatswain  ;  you 
see  he  has  gloves  on  his  hands,  and  his  dress  is  not  exact 
ly  a  sailor's  rig." 

"  Ay,  ay,  I  see.  I  suppose  he  has  some  interest  in  the 
concern.  That  accounts  for  his  importance.  Rather  a 
stern  looking  chap.  What  raven  black  hair  he  has !  a 
fine  form,  too." 

"  And  a  remarkably  bright  eye.  I  caught  a  glimpse  of 
his  face  just  now  —  look  —  " 

This  was  said  as  the  person  about  whom  they  had  been 
speaking,  having  surrendered  the  rope  into  the  hands  of 
the  boatmen,  that  they  might  give  a  last  pull  and  make  all 
taut,  turned  his  face  toward  the  two  gentlemen,  casting  a 
mere  glance  that  way,  while  he  walked  past  them,  and 
mounting  the  after  deck,  approached  the  captain,  who  was 
standing  by  his  tiller.  The  latter  touched  his  hat  before 
he  took  the  proffered  hand  of  his  passenger. 

"  I  feel  under  great  obligation  to  you,  captain.  I  hope 
the  delay  has  not  put  you  to  inconvenience." 

"  Not  at  all,  not  at  all,  Mr.  Roland ;  the  wind  is  fair  to 
be  sure  and  a  good  breeze,  but  do  our  best,  we  shall  not 
be  able  to  get  beyond  the  edge  of  the  highlands  to-night. 
The  south  wind  is  heaping  up  for  us  some  squally  weath 
er  off  in  the  north-west.  We  shall  probably  have  a  flus 
ter  before  sundown,  and  then  a  stiff  nor'-easter  right  in 
our  teeth  or  a  dead  calm ;  a  half  hour  sooner  or  later  wont 
make  much  difference  —  take  care  of  the  boom,  sir." 


. 

• 
120  LOOKING    AROUND. 

The  gentleman  stooped  in  time  to  avoid  the  sweep  of 
the  heavy  sail  as  it  took  the  wind  and  flew  across  the 
deck,  and  spread  its  broad  white  form  without  a  wrinkle, 
full  to  the  breeze.  Some  little  stir  was  perceived  among 
the  group  of  passengers  who  still  maintained  their  posi 
tion  around  the  cabin-door,  and  the  captain  with  a  slight 
chuckle  pointed  his  companion  that  way.  It  seemed  that 
Mr.  Blanchard  had  his  curiosity  somewhat  excited  in  ref 
erence  to  this  gentleman,  who  had  been  the  cause  of  some 
disturbance  to  his  equanimity,  and  could  not  very  well 
keep  his  eye  from  that  direction,  There  was  something 
in  the  countenance  and  the  bearing  of  the  young  man  — 
for  he  was  not  probably  over  thirty  —  that  in  spite  of  his 
plain  dress,  indicated  his  position  as  above  a  medium  rank, 
and  Mr.  Blanchard,  like  most  men  who,  from  a  low  posi 
tion  originally,  have  accumulated  money  enough  to  ena 
ble  them  to  imitate  those  they  think  their  betters  in  ex 
ternals,  was  sensitive  in  that  particular  point.  His  own 
consciousness  assured  him  that  between  this  stranger  and 
himself  there  was  a  "vast  gulf  fixed."  Money  could  not 
bridge  it  over,  nor  give  to  himself  that  unmistakable  air 
which  had  been  acquired  from  early  childhood.  He  might 
indeed  pretend  to  ridicule  the  idea  that  one  man  was  not 
as  good  as  another,  if  he  had  as  much  money  at  his  com 
mand  and  ability  to  make  the  most  of  it ;  and  yet  he  felt 
the  contrast — the  could  not  help  it ;  and  although  he  loved 
money  and  prided  himself  upon  what  he  had  accumulat 
ed,  yet  he  would  have  felt  himself  flattered  to  be  ac 
knowledged  by  that  person  as  an  acquaintance,  even  al 
though  he  should  know  that  his  own  purse  was  much  the 
best  filled. 

These -feelings  being  in  operation,  Mr.  Blanchard,  as  has 
been  said,  kept  his  eye  that  way,  as  though  under  fascina 
tion,  and  the  spell  was  not  broken  until  he  felt  his  hat  and 
other  appurtances  belonging  to  the  upper  region  suddenly 
torn  from  their  proper  place.  Being  neai'er  the  centre  of 
motion,  the  boom  had  accomplished  the  feat  before  he 
had  time  to  think  of  stooping,  and  left  exposed  to  the  air 
and  the  free  gaze  of  his  companions,  a  white  shining  pate 
as  guiltless  of  hair  as  an  apple.  Instead  of  plunging  for 
his  hat  and  its  accompaniment,  he  clapped  both  hands  to 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  121 

his  head,  which  caused  increased  attention  that  way,  many 
asking  with  more  or  less  interest,  "  if  he  was  much  hurt." 

He  made  no  reply,  but  walked  with  his  hands  still 
spread  over  his  cranium  in  the  direction  of  the  missing  ar 
ticles.  One  of  .the  hands  on  board  had  luckily  grabbed 
them  on  their  way  after  the  boom  towards  the  blue  waters, 
and  as  he  handed  them  to  their  owner,  the  hairy  scalp 
was  so  quickly  replaced  upon  its  shaven  pedestal,  that  suf 
ficient  care  -was  wanting  in  properly  adjusting  it.  The 
consequence  was,  the  crown  of  his  head  appeared  just 
over  the  frontal  bump,  and  the  foretop  with  its  curls  was 
overlooking  the  collar  behind.  An  irrepressible  shout  of 
laughter  greeted  this  singular  transformation,  very  much 
to  the  consternation  and  dismay  of  the  sufferer.  He  felt 
that  something  was  wrong,  but  not  knowing  exactly  where 
the  difficulty  lay,  clapped  his  hat  over  the  scene  of  disor 
der,  and  looking  very  much  like  a  man  with  his  face  in 
the  wrong  place,  rushed  down  into  the  cabin. 

To  most  men  of  Mr.  Blanchard's  years,  such  a  mishap 
would  have  been  merely  a  fit  cause  fora  hearty  laugh,  and 
he  would  have  joined  in  readily  with  those  around.  He 
was  of  the  ripe  age  of  fifty,  and  if  deficient  at  that  period 
of  life  in  the  necessary  covering  for  his  head,  he  might  with 
perfect  propriety  put  on  a  substitute.  But  Mr.  Blanchard 
was  a  widower  —  a  rich  widower,  he  was  called  —  and 
there  was  among  the  list  of  passengers  on  board,  a  pair 
of  very  soft  and  expressive  eyes,  which,  it  may  as  well  be 
said  at  once,  had  made  a  powerful  impression  on  his  heart. 
Those  eyes  had  witnessed  this  development  of  his  cranial 
peculiarities,  and  their  owner  had  joined  in  the  shout  of 
laughter,  and  the  tender  sensibilities  of  Mr.  Blanchard 
were  sadly  disturbed. 

But  the  vessel  has  now  got  under  full  way,  and  with  the 
stiff  breeze  then  blowing,  and  the  tide  in  her  favor  was 
making  rapid  progress.  The  spires  and  parallel  streets  of 
the  great  city  were  passing  in  quick  succession.  Soon  the 
pretty  dwellings  scattered  along  the  outskirts  are  attract 
ing  admiration,  and  as  all  objects  recognized  as  belonging 
to  New  York,  are  lost  in  the  fields,  and  fences,  and  com 
mon  country  residences,  the  passengers  remit  their  united 
gaze,  and  begin  to  scatter  about  the  vessel  and  amuse 
6 


122  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

themselves  according  to  th^ir  different  tastes.  They  had 
now  fairly  commenced  their  voyage,  and  all  knew  enough 
of  sloop  navigation,  to  feel  that  there  would  be  time  for 
trying  a  variety  of  positions,  and  doing  a  variety  of  odds 
and  ends,  before  there  would  be  any  propriety  in  asking 
the  captain,  "  how  soon  he  thought  they  would  get  to  the 
landing." 

1  It  was  a  beautiful  afternoon  in  the  month  of  June, 
rather  warm,  indeed,  for  the  season.  Our  pas^ngers," how 
ever,  suffered  no  inconvenience  from  that  source.  The 
elasticity  of  the  pure  air  now  they  were  once  out  on  the 
broad  river,  and  the  wind  that  "  followed  fast,"  nullified 
at  least,  while  they  were  on  deck,  the  scorching  sunbeams, 
and  caused  a  continued  expression  from  one  and  another 
of  thankfulness  "  that  they  were  out  of  the  city."  More 
especially  did  manifestations  of  delight,  not  only  at  the 
delicious  change  from  the  stifling  atmosphere  of  the  city, 
but  in  the  glorious  visions  of  nature  that  now  lay  spread 
out  on  every  point  of  view,  escape  the  lips  of  a  young 
and  beautiful  specimen  among  the  females.  She  seemed 
to  be  quite  carried  away  from  all  sense  of  conventionali 
ties,  and  with  her  bonnet  hanging  by  its  strings  in  her 
hand,  her  light,  very"  light,  brown  hair  dangling  ad  libitum 
upon  her  neck  and  shoulders,  she  seemed  like  some  young 
animal  just  loosed  from  a  long  confinement,  snuffing  the 
air  with  delight,  and  ready  for  a  spring  in  any  direction. 
The  sunbeam  did  not  appear  in  the  least  to  affect  the  full, 
bright  play  of  her  very  dark,  blue  eyes.  She  heeded  them 
no  more  than  if  she  had  no  fair  skin  to  tarnish,  and  had 
been  a  German  peasant  girl,  accustomed  to  exposure  in  all 
weather.  At  times  she  stood  and  gazed  up  at  the  expand 
ed  sail,  and  then  at  the  blue  water  as  it  tumbled  along  the 
vessel's  side,  and  then  at  the  vast  panorama  of  water  and 
land  that  opened  at  the  stern  as  their  progress  into  mid 
channel  exposed  more  clearly  the  beautiful  bay  with  its 
circling  landscape  and  its  small  opening  to  seaward  at  the 
narrows.  Her  admiration  was  not  that  of  the  mere  "  hoy 
den,"  who,  deprived  of  nature's  beauties  by  confinement 
to  the  dull  round  of  some  city  boarding  school,  looked, 
and  laughed,  and  giggled,  and  romped  about  —  glad  to  be 
at  freedom.  There  was  no  smile  on  her  beautiful  counte- 


LOOKING    AROUND.  123 

nance,  there  was  no  restlessness  in  her  motions;  she  seem 
ed  in  no  haste  to  withdraw  her  eye  from  any  one  of  the 
varied  scenes  that  for  the  time  attracted  her  notice.  She 
evidently  was  thinking,  Mjhile  her  eye  was  gazing,  and 
more  than  once  held  up  her  hands,  bonnet  and  all,  as  some 
view,  more  captivating  than  trie  rest,  unfolded  Its  beauties 
to  her.  At  length,  a  middle  aged  lady,  peeping  her  head 
around  above  the  cabin  hatch,  as  she  stood  upon  its  upper 
step,  espied  her  seated  upon  a  hencoop  near  the  stern, 
conversing  with  the  little  captain,  who  was  also  seated  on 
the  end  of  his  tiller.  At  once  the  elder  lady  ascended  the 
deck,  and  as  she  approached  the  other,  said  : 

"  Do,  Eva,  for  go6dness  sake,  put  on  your  bonnet ;  you'll 
scorch  to  death." 

"  I  will,  Aunt  Lizzy,  to  please  you ;    but  really,  I  had 
forgotten  that  it  was  not  in  its  place.    Is  not  this  love-. 
ly?" 

"  Its  dreadful  hot,"  and  the  lady  fanned  herself  more 
rapidly  as  she  said  this,  and  scowled,  as  though  the  water 
and  the  deck  on  which  she  stood,  and  all  about  her,  were 
distasteful. 

"  But  such  a  delicious  breeze  as  we  are  having,  Aunt 
Lizzy,  makes  one  forget  all  about  the  heat.  We  are  not 
in  the  city  now,  where  every  puff  of  air  seems  to  come 
from  a  furnace,  or  from  some  burning  desert." 

"  Its  dreadful  hot  here,  too,  and  not  a  speck  of  shade  or 
any  thing  to  keep  the  sun  off;  that's  the  worst  of  the 
country,  and  you'll  find  it  just  as  I  have  told  you.  It's 
dreadful  hot  in  the  summer,  and  it's  dreadful  cold  in  the 
winter,  and  what  with  toads,  and  mosquitoes,  and  dust, 
and  mud,  and  the  horrible  snakes  —  well,  you'll  all  see  — 
if  you  ain't  all  sick  to  death  before  summer  is  over  —  do 
come  down  in  the  cabin,  Eva,  out  of  the  broiling  sun ; 
you'll  be  burnt  as  black  as  a  Mohawk." 

"  No  danger  now,  Aunt  Lizzy,  with  this  great  scoop  on 
my  head." 

"Yes,  the  water  will  burn  you  just  as  bad  as  the  sun, 
and  more  than  all,  we  are  going  to  have  a  gust,  I  know 
we  are,  the  wind  is  south." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Lizzy !  what  sign  can  you  perceive  of  a  gust, 
the  sky  is  clear,  I  am  sure." 


124  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  Yes,  yes  —  but  I  can  see  —  look  up  in  the  northwest, 
it's  gathering  there  —  this  south  wind  always  brings  them. 
I  don't  like  south  winds  — not  in  summer;  you  can't  cheat 
rne  about  gusts,  I  can  feel  them  in  the  very  ends  of  my 
fingers." 

The  captain  had  been  lisfening  attentively  to  the  old 
lady,  and  from  the  pleasant  twinkle  of  his  eye  and  a  pe 
culiar  nod  of  his  head  occasionally  as  he  caught  the  eye 
of  the  younger  one,  showed  that  he  was  not  a  little  amus 
ed.  He  now  gave  a  hearty  "  ha,  ha,"  saying  at  the  same 
time, 

"I  guess  your  fingers  tell  right  this  time,  madam." 

Miss  Eva  joined  in  the  laugh,  but  not  so  the  old  lady  ; 
her  countenance  assumed  a  more  serious  aspect  if  possi 
ble,  and  taking  a  step  closer  to  the  captain,  she  spoke  in 
a  very  earnest  tone. 

"  Then  you  think  we  are  going  to  have  a  thunder  gust, 
captain  ?  What  shall  we  do  !  you'll  put  in  somewhere, 
won't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  never  fear,  madam,  we'll  take  all  the  care  we  can, 
but  you  know  its  hard  fending  off  thunder  and  lightning, 
—  they  go  pretty  much  where  they're  sent." 

"  Oh  dear,  I  knew  it  would  be  so,  and  to  think  of  being 
in  a  boat,  with  a  jnast,  too,  to  draw  the  lightning ! " 

"  Yes,  but  auntie,  you  know  it  will  not  be  so  high  an  ob 
ject  as  St.  John's  steeple.  You  have  always  been  wish 
ing  we  lived  any  where  but  so  near  that  steeple.  I  know 
we  have  got  a  careful  captain,  and  don't  mean  to  give  my 
self  any  concern  about  the  storms." 

"  No,  I'll  warrant  you  wont ;  you  never  did,  not  even  to 
shut  down  a  window  till  the  rain,  and  hail,  and  dust  was 
pouring  in  on  everything." 

"  We  shall  not  have  any  dust,  Aunt  Lizzie  ;  that  will 
be  an  evil  out  of  the  way.  You  know  you  have  always 
said  the  dust  was  more  frightful  to  you  at  such  times  than 
any  thing  else,  and  then  we  can  have  a  clear  view  of  the 
storm  when  it  comes." 

"  I  dont  want  to  see  it ;  but  do  come  down,  Eva,  and 
sit  with  me  in  the  cabin,  I'm  dreadfully  nervous." 

With  a  pleasant  smile  on  her  face,  the  young  lady  made 


LOOKING   AROUND.  125 

a  slight  obeisance  to  the  captain,  and  tripped  it  after  her 
friend,  though  not  perhaps  with  a  very  good  will. 

As  we  shall  not  have  much  to.  do  with  all  the  passen 
gers,  we  shall  only  introduce  to  the  reader  such  of  them 
as  will  be  actors  in  the  scenes  we  are  about  to  relate. 

Mr.  Blanchard  was  one  of  the  multitude,  who  in  the 
city  of  New  York,  had  managed  by  the  time  be  reached 
his  fiftieth  year,  to  accumulate  what  was  thought  in  those 
days  —  some  forty  years  since  —  a  handsome  fortune.  He 
was  worth,  probably,  a  little  over  eighty  thousand  dollars — 
at  least  this  was  the  report.  He  was  a  native  of  the  city, 
but  of  a  low  origin.  His  father  had  been  a  laboring  man  — 
a  porter  in  a  large  retail  grocery,  and  had  succeeded  in 
procuring  a  situation  for  his  son  in  a  wholesale  establish 
ment  in  the  same  line,  as  a  clerk.  Young  Blanchard  was 
then  fourteen,  an  active  boy  of  fair  capacity,  and  so  well 
did  he  please  his  employers,  that  he  was  by  degrees  ad 
vanced  from  that  of  an  errand  boy  to  that  of  junior  clerk, 
book  keeper,  salesman,  and  finally  was  taken  into  the  con 
cern  as  a  partner.  He  had  ever  been  a  close  applicant  to 
business ;  his  mind  was  fully  satisfied  with  being  engross 
ed  in  its  details,  and  as  the  concern  was  prosperous  and 
the  business  a  regular  affair  —  that  of  supplying  country 
stores  with  rum,  sugar,  molasses,  etc.,  —  it  was  not  neces 
sary  that  its  managers  should  be  men  of  large  capacity,  or 
cultivated  intellect.  They  knew  enough  of  geography  to 
be  able  to  realize  the  whereabouts  their  customers  lived, 
but  as  their  sales  were  principally  made  along  the  river 
towns  of  the  Hudson,  as  far  west  in  New  Jersey  as  Morris- 
town,  and  to  a  few  of  the  villages  in  Connecticut,  it  would 
require  but  a  limited  knowledge  of  the  terrestrial  globe, 
to  be  able  in  imagination  to  locate  their  customers.  And 
as  to  spelling  and  grammar,  there  was  little  occasion  for  a 
critical  knowledge  of  either.  The  few  common-place  re 
marks  which  they  had  to  make  at  the  end  of  the  bill  of 
goods,  such  as,  "  we  hope  the  articles  will  prove  satisfacto 
ry,"  or,  "we  shall  be  glad  to  receive  further  orders  from 
you,"  were  not  easily  put  out  of  joint  in  construction,  and 
the  words  not  difficult  for  plain  spellers.  It  is  quite  an  er 
ror  to  suppose  any  great  amount  of  knowledge  or  talent  is 
required  in  order  to  be  a  successful  trader  in  some  of  those 


126  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

branches  of  business  in  the  great  city  which  have  turned 
out  quite  wealthy  men.  Many  fine  establishments  at  the 
present  day,  both  in  the  city  and  out  of  it$  have  owners 
who  must  feel  strangely  amid  their  surroundings,  and 
above  all,  very  peculiar  in  their  own  library,  if  they  have 
such  an  appendage  to  their  dwellings. 

We  are  straying  however,  from  our  friend,  Mr.  Rufus 
Blanchard.  The  business  was  indeed  prosperous,  but  all 
Mr.  Blanchai'd's  money  was  not  made  in  regular  trade. 
He  had  on  his  own  account  dabbled  occasionally  in 
stocks,  in  which  he  had  been  successful;  he  had  also 
made  a  very  fortunate  investment  in  vacant  lots  just  at  a 
time  when  a  sudden  rage  for  speculation  in  fast  property 
had  broken  out,  and  more  by  that  chance  than  either  his 
regular  business  or  his  stock  ventures,  was  he  enabled  to 
realize  that  he  had  become  a  man  of  some  consideration  — 
a  monied  man.  To  be  sure  much  of  the  importance  at 
tached  to  him,  may  be  attributed  to  the  fact  that  public 
rumor  proclaimed  him  to  be  worth  just  about  double  what 
he  did  possess,  and  as  he  never  took  any  pains  to  contra 
dict  that  veracious  oracle,  when  he  had  the  opportunity, 
he  therefore  passed  on  change  and  elsewhere,  as  a  very 
lucky  fellow,  received  all  that  homage  which  wealth  in 
sures,  and  was  not  sorry  to  know  that  any  envied  him  on 
account  of  his  prosperity.  In  fact,  without  running  to  the 
excesses  which  many  indulged  in,  he  was  heartily  in  love 
with  the  world,  and  although  a  professor  of  religion,  the 
injunction  "to  love  not  the  world  nor  the  things  of  the 
world,"  —  "if  riches  increase  set  not  your  heart  on  them," 
—  "possessing  as  though  we  possessed  not," — he  did  not 
seem  to  feel  had  any  reference  to  him.  He  had  made  his 
money,  and  as  he  sometimes  said,  "  God  had  prospered 
him,"  and  of  course  he  had  a  right  to  enjoy  his  gifts  —  all 
which  cannot  be  denied  oy  gainsayed.  But  the  thought 
never  came  into  his  mind,  that  his  abundance  had  calls  — 
deep  and  loud,  from  many  a  sufferer,  and  that  he  was  en 
trusted  with  it  for  this  very  purpose.  The  talent  entrust 
ed  to  him  was  not  that  of  superior  intellect,  or  such  gifts 
as  would  have  enabled  him  to  grapple  with  the  minds  of 
men  in  warning,  convincing  and  leading  them  from  the 
paths  of  sin  and  sorrow,  to  those  of  truth  and  holiness. 


LOOKING    AROUND.  127 

But  he  was  entrusted  with  material  substance  beyond  what 
his  necessities  required,  and  he  knew  that  the  Master 
whom  he  professed  to  love,  "-went  about  doing  good," 
and  that  his  disciples  were  enjoined  to  do  likewise  —  even 
to  deny  themselves,  if  that  were  necessary  —  at  any  rate, 
"  to  remember  the  poor."  Not  that  Mr.  Blanchard  never 
gave  for  that  purpose,  when  called  upon,  but  it  was  given 
for  the  same  reason,  and  in  the  same  spirit  that  he  paid 
his  taxes  —  he  could  not  very  well  help  it  —  and  kesp  up 
a  very  fair  name.  He  had  little  sympathy  with  the  poor 
—  rather  blamed  than  pitied  them. 

His  religion  had  not  so  remodeled  his  heart,  as  to  make 
him  truly  in  love  with  its  holy  principles.  He  held  on  to 
it  as  a  safeguard,  or  it  may  be  from  habit,  or  from  defer 
ence  to  the  opinion  of  others.  It  was  not  a  source  of 
much  comfort  to  him ;  he  rather  feared  than  loved  God. 

That  he  was  not  truly  happy,  is  not  at  all  strange  ;  he 
had  no  sweet  communions  with  his  Saviour  —  the  Bible 
was  not  much  of  a  companion  for  him  —  he  never  went 
to  it  for  counsel,  nor  had  his  spirit  enraptured  with  its  di 
vine  teachings  and  promises.  .  The  holy  joy  which  breaks 
forth  in  the  Psalms  and  escapes  from  the  heart  of  the 
Apostles,  touch  no  chord  in  his.  How  then  can  Be  be 
happy !  And  yet  he  was  a  professor,  in  good  and  regular 
standing.  Aside  from  this  fact,  it  would  have  been  utter 
ly  impossible,  even  for  those  most  intimate  with  him,  to 
have  discovered  wherei-n  he  differed  from  those  who  fol 
lowed  the  devices  and  desires  of  their  own  heart,  and 
made  no  secret  of  it.  When  he  was  reviled,  he  gave  as 
good  as  he  received.  When  he  suffered  from  any  cause 
from  a  fellow  man  in  his  pocket  or  his  person,  he  left 
no  means  untried,  either  by  law  or  any  other  way,  except 
giving  hard  blows,  (he  was  not  a  fighting  man,)  to  make 
his  aggressor  suffer  in  return.  As  to  leaving  matters  to 
"  Him  who  judgeth  righteously,"  he  never  once'  thought 
of  the  thing.  ^'The  meekness  and  gentleness'"  of  the. 
Divine  Master,  might  as  well  never  been  urged  as  a  pat 
tern  to  copy,  for  all  that  such  a  motive  affected  him.  To 
sum  the  whole  up,  he  lived  as  far  from  God  as  a  friend,  as 
far  from  Christ  as  his  pattern  and  atoning  sacrifice,  and 
from  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the  communicator  of  heavenly  as- 


128  LOOKING    AROUND. 

pirations  and  sanctifying  grace,  as  though  the -triune  man 
ifestations  of  Almighty  love  and  care  had  no  part  in  his 
creed,  and  yet  he  sat  regularly  at  the  communion  table, 
said  grace  over  his  meals,  and  numbered  himself  with  those 
who  had  been  born  again. 

Mr.  Sandford  had  been  in  business  in  the  city  of  New 
York  for  nearly  fifteen  years.  He  had  accumulated  a 
small  property,  and  would  no  doubt,  if  he  had  continued 
in  trade,  succeeded  in  time  to  an  independence ;  but  un 
happily  he  had  engaged  in  business  at  a  period  during 
which  there  was  a  very  unsettled  state  of  things  in  the 
commercial  world.  Every  few  years  some  derangement 
took  place  in  monetary  affairs  ;  more  than  once  he  was  on 
the  eve  of  bankruptcy.  He  held  on  his  way,  however, 
but  being  of  a  nervous  temperament  and  very  suscepti 
ble  to  the  terrors  which  such  an  event  inspires,  he  resolv 
ed  that  as  soon  as  he  could  gather  up  enough  to  sustain 
his  family  in  decency,  he  would  retire  into  the  country, 
purchase  a  farm,  and  leave  the  arena  of  the  great  strug 
gle.  He  had  reasoned  the  matter  with  himself  fully,  as 
he  thought,  and  the  course  of  his  reasoning  was  in  this 
wise  —  "  What  is  the  great  struggle  for  ?  in  most  cases 
for  a'living.  Well,  that  to  be  sure  is  a  necessity,  but  is  it 
necessary  for  me  to  live  in  the  city  ?  Rents  are  higher, 
the  state  of  living  daily  becoming  more  sumptuous  and 
expensive,  and  the  course  of  trade  more  uncertain,  ex 
tended  and  hazardous.  But  perhaps  by  continuing  here, 
I  may  after  many  years  of  toil,  anxiety,  distraction  and 
great  effort,  accumulate,  as  some  few  do,  sufficient  to  en 
able  me  to  retire  from  business  and  live  on  my  income. 
I  shall  in  all  human  probability  then  be  far  advanced  in 
life,  my  energies  paralyzed,  my  capacity  for  rest  and  en 
joyment  destroyed.  In  the  meantime,  the  flower  of  my 
life,  the  years  in  which  I  shall  be  most  capable  of  appre 
ciating  the  blessings  of  life  and  of  home  pleasures,  will  be 
eaten  out  by  the  canker  of  care.  Farmers  can  be  inde 
pendent  on  a  small  sum.  Their  land  yields  the'm  all  they 
need  —  abundance  crowns  their  table — they  have  no 
care ;  their  style  of  living  is  plain  to  be  sure,  but  that  is, 
more  than  compensated  by  the  beauties  of  nature  and  the 
freshness  and  purity  of  their  surroundings.  I  have  a 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  129 

..  •  '•-••-fx' 

growing  family;  if  my  boy  should.be  brought  up  in  the 
city  he  must  mingle  with  other  boys.  Vice  is  contagious; 
the  temptations  to  youth  here,  are  increasing  rapidly,  and 
can  I  hope  that  he  will  escape  them  ?  How  many  young 
men  within  my  knowledge  are  running  the  course  that 
leads  to  infamy  and  an  early  grave.  Absorbed  in  busi 
ness  how  can  a  father  watch  as  he  ought  the  plants  en 
trusted  to  his  care !  " 

This  sample  will  suffice  to  give  in  some  measure,  an 
idea  of  the  workings  of  his  mind  ;  but  beside  this,  another 
inducement  added  its  weight  to  his  conclusions.  He  had 
married  a  wife  some  yeai'S  his  junior;  she  was  but  seven 
teen  and  he  thirty-two  when  they  united  their  destinies. 
He  was  devotedly  fond  of  her  and  she  as  devotedly  fond 
of  him.  It  was  a  union  of  love,  for  she  knew  he  had  no 
wealth  to  offer  her.  The  duties  of  business  separated 
them  from  each  other  through  the  day,  and  often,  in  the 
business  seasons,  through  the  evening,  and  at  times  of  dif- 
iculty,  the  anxiety  for  the  morrow,  sadly  marred  the  pleas 
ure  of  the  evening  s  intercourse.  She  was  too,  in  the  hey 
day  of  life,  of  a  romantic  turn,  not  caring  much  for  show,- 
but  by  the  power  of  idealism,  throwing  around  her  whole 
existence  that  peculiar  charm  which  robes  even  plain  or 
rude  things  in  a  pleasing  dress.  Her  husband  was  not  to 
her  the  plain  Mr.  Sandford,  the  wholesale  grocer  in  Front 
street ;  she  never  thought  of  him  as  such.  He  was  the 
type  of  nobleness,  and  purity,  and  wisdom,  and  strength, 
and  manliness.  She  loved  to  see  him  in  the  nicest  trim, 
and  with  her  own  hands  arranged  his  hair  to  suit  her  fan 
cy,  disheveling  the  straightly  brushed  locks,  and  giving 
them  as  much  as  possible  a  graceful  curling  carelessness 
of  look,  and  would  insist  upon  the  nicest  plaitings  for  his 
bosoms,  and  an  easy,  jaunty  tie  for  his  cravat ;  for  she. 
knew,  or  thought  she  did,  that  nothing  could  be  too  good 
to  set  off  the  excellence  of  the  manly  form  and  soul  they 
adorned.  And  he  let  her  have  her  way,  for  he  dearly  loved 
her  —  not  for  any  ideal  picture  which  his  mind  had  form 
ed  out  of  her  real  self;  it  was  enough  for  him  to  see  her  as 
she  was  and  to  please  her.  He  knew  that  she  was  fond 
of  nature,  for  he  had  accompanied  her  to  the  country,  and 
heard  her  exclamations  of  delight  at  witnessing  its  varied 
6* 


130  LOOKING   AROUND. 

scenes.     The  snug  homestead  nestling  beneath   the  trees 

—  the  mowers  reaping  the  luxuriant  meadows  —  the  tall 
grain  waving  to  the -gentle  wind  .-^- the  babbling  brook, 
plashing  back  the  sunbeams  from  its  broken  waters  and 
curling  amid  the  rocks  that  obstructed  its  way  —  the  gold 
en  edges  of  the  clouds  at  sunset  and  the  amber  beams  of 
the  coming  day,  all  had  attracted  her  notice  and  filled  her 
with,  delight.     So  when  his  own   conclusions  had  been 
ii^de,  and  he  revealed  his  thoughts  about  a  change  of 
life,  she   embraced  the  notion  with  a  childlike  joy ;  and 
at  once  the  whole  scene  was  before  her.  *  The  beauty  and 
freshness  of  the  country  —  their  snug  and  quiet  home  — 
the  broad   shadows  of  the  trees,  the  lovely  garden  —  the 
green  leaves  —  the  cool,  spai'kling  brook  —  the  pleasant 
walks  with  him  whom  she  loved  beside  her  along  the 
shaded  paths  within  the  echoing  woods  —  the  lowing  kine 

—  the  ride  at  early  dawn  — the  sweet  voices  of  the  birds, 

—  with  no  daily  partings  —  no  brow  of  care  —  no  restless 
nights  — no  haste  to  be  away  at  business  hours  —  nor  long 
watchings  for  the  well  known  footsteps  through  the  lone-' 
ly  evening.     "  Oh,  how  delicious  it  would  be  !   how  like 
true  living ! " 

And  at  once  his  mind  is  settled  and  his  affairs  arranged 
for  a  final  move.  He  found,  however,  that  the  amount  he 
would  realize,  would  not  quite  come  up  to  the  balance  in 
his  favor  which  his  books  displayed.  He  would  have 
enough  however,  to  purchase  a  farm  of  desirable  size  and 
still  have  some  thousands  at  interest.  '  The  farm  would, 
of  course,  provide  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  the  sur 
plus  would  enable  him  to  procure  such  extras  as  might 
tend  to  make  their  surroundings  more  agreeable  to  the 
taste  of  his  wife.  His  stock  of  goods  was  disposed  of  to 
those  who  took  his  stand  of  business,  and  most  of  his  sur 
plus  fund  was  in  notes  at  various  and  extended  dates,  well 
endorsed  as  he  believed,  and  he  and  his  little  family  bade 
good-bye  to  the  city,  and  were  now,  at  the  commencement 
of  our  story,  just  about  to  enter  upon  the  new  state  of  ex 
istence  they  had  marked  out  for  themselves. 

They  were  now  seated  together  in  the  fore  part  of  the 
vessel,  and  within  the  grateful  shadow  which  the  outspread 
sail  afforded.  Two  little  children  were  amusing  them- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  131 

selves  near  to  them  sitting  on  the  deck  — a  boy  and  girl 
—  their  only  children.  A  tidily  dressed  young  woman 
was  near  at  hand,  wh'o  occasionally  said  something  to  the 
little  Ones,  and  was  ready  to  assist  them  in  their  play  or 
occasionally  to  take  them  up  and  show  them  a  passing  sloop, 
or  some  object  on  the  distant  shore. 

"  How  happy  they  seem  to  be !  "  said  Mrs.  Sandford, 
laying  her  hand  upon  her  husband's  arm,  and  looking  into 
his  face,  "  and  you  too,  Edward,  your  brow  seems  smooth 
er  already.  You  feel  a  great  relief  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed,  Caroline.  I  feel  as  if  in  a  new  world ;  it 
never  seemed  so  bright  to  me  before.  I  feel  now  as  if  I 
could  enjoy  what  God  has  given  me.  You  seem  nearer 
and  dearer  to  me,  and  these  little  darlings,  and  this  beau 
tiful  creation  around  us,  the  water  and  the  land  and  the 
bright  sky  and  the  pure  free  air.  The  only  thing  which 
troubles  me  now,  is  the  fear  that  you  may  not  like  our 
change ;  you  will  miss  so.  many  things  that  were  sources 
of  comfort  to  you  in  the  city." 

"  Do  not  for  a  moment,  I  beg  of  you,  allow  a  shade  of 
fear  on  my  account.  I  am  very  happy  I  assure  you  — 
very,  very  happy."  . 

"  I  am  almost  sorry  I  did  not  take  you  up  to  see  the 
place  before  I  pui'chased.  I  fear  you  will  be  disappointed, 
the  house  is  so  plain  and  things  ai-e  in  such  disorder,  and 
then  the  state  of  society  may  not  be  agreeable." 

"  Will  it  not  be  as  bad  for  you,  as  for  me  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,  I  shall  have  you  and  the  children." 

"  And  I  shall  have  you  and  the  children,  too,  and  do 
you  not  think  it  will  be  happiness  enough  for  me  to  hear 
once  again  your  free,  hearty  laugh,  and  to  know  that  the 
burden  of  care  you  have  labored  under  is  removed ;  and 
to  see  you  seated  under  the  shadow  of  the  big  trees  you 
have  talked  so  much  about,  reading  at  your  leisure  some 
choice  book,  and  perhaps  taking  my  sewing,  seat  myself 
beside  you  and  listen  to  that  voice  which  is  so  pleasant  to 
me.  What  care  I  for  a  fine  house  or  fine  furniture  ?  I 
know  we  have  elements  of  happiness  independent  of  such 
incidentals." 

Mr.  Sandford  could  not  reply.  His  heart  was  too  deep 
ly  touched,  not  only  by  the  lovely  scene  his  wife  had 


132  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

painted  to  his  imagination,  but  by  the  exhibition  of  that 
pure  woman's  love  which  led  her  to  draw  the  picture. 
Their  conversation  was  broken  in  upon  just  then,  by  the 
appearance  of  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  came  up  with  rather  a 
serious  face,  remarking : 

"I  fear  we  are  going  to  have  an  ugly  time  of  it  ;  the 
weather  looks  rather  threatening." 

"Ah,  indeed!-"  said  Mr.  Sandford.  "Where?  what 
sign  of  it  ?  " 

"  Those  clouds  gathering  in  the  northwest.  What  a 
heavy  bank  of  clouds  is  rising !  and  this  south  wind  don't 
seem  to  keep  them  back." 

Mr.  Sandford  directed  his  eye  to  the  object  of  Mr. 
Blanchard's  alarm,  observing : 

"  Oh,  well,  we  are  only  passengers  you  know  :  if  it  rains 
we  can  go  below,  we  shall  not  have  to  trouble  ourselves 
with  the  management  of  the  sails.  Our  captain,  I  judge, 
understands  his  business,  —  "a  fine  little  fellow  he  seems 
to  me." 

"  Perhaps  he  does,  but  these  captains  want  watching ; 
they  are  very  venturesome;  they'll  carry  sail  to  the  last 
minute." 

"Jenny,  Jenny,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  addressing  the 
woman,  "  Carlos  is  troubling  that  gentleman ;  you  had 
better  bring  him  here." 

The  gentleman  alluded  to,  was  the  passenger  who  had 
delayed  the  boat  and  increased  the  displeasure  of  Mr. 
Blanchard.  He  had  taken  a  seat  on  a  coil  of  rope  not  far 
from  where  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sandford  were  sitting,  and  was 
engaged  in  reading.  The  child  had  walked  up  to  him  and 
seemed  quite  disposed  to  make  friends ;  and  the  gentle 
man,  apparently  pleased  with  the  confidence  of  the  little 
one,  had  laid  down  his  book  and  was  amusing  him  with 
the  exhibition  of  a  handsome  knife  which  he  had  in  his 
hand  for  the  purpose  of  cutting  some  leaves  in  a  number 
of  the  London  Quarterly,  the  book  with  which  he  was 
then  engaged.  As  the  boy  did  not  appear  at  all  disposed 
to  comply  with  the  solicitations  of  Jenny,  Mr.  Sandford 
at  once  went  to  her  assistance. 

"  Come,  my  boy,  give  the  gentleman  his  knife.  He  is  a 
young  traveler,  sir,"  addressing  the  gentleman,  "  and  not 
versed  in  the  proprieties." 


LOOKING   AROTTND.  133 

"  Let  him  have  it,  sir,  by  all  means.  I  have  been  quite 
gratified  with  his  confidence ;  children,  it  is  said,  can  dis 
tinguish  those  who  like  their  company." 

"Have  you  any  of  your  own,  sir." 

"  Oh  no,  sir ;  I  have  not  that  happiness.  I  am  as  yet 
without  the  pale  of  such  enjoyments,  and  very  seldom  see 
little  folks  at  all,  but  I  often  think  I  should  like  such  a 
little  one  about  me,  if  for  nothing  else,  to  notice  the  exhi 
bition  of  human  nature  in  its  guileless  state." 

"  Not  always  a  very  pleasant  exhibition,"  said  Mr. 
Sandford,  smiling. 

"  That  would  depend,  I  presume,  sir,  upon  the  example 
it  should  have  had.  Children,  beyond  the  instinct  they 
have  in  common  with  all  young  animals,  will  exhibit  just 
such  feelings  as  they  perceive  their  elders  manifest ;  is  it 
not  so,  do  you  think,  sir." 

"Doubtless  much  of  the  character  they  exhibit  is  ac 
quired  from  contact  with  the  world  in  which  they  live, 
but  after  all,  there  is  an  innate  propensity  to  evil,  which 
shows  itself,  in  spite  of  all  the  influences  to  good  with 
which  they  may  have  been  surrounded." 

The  eye  of  the  young  man  which  'was  very  dark  and 
penetrating,  for  a  moment  rested  on  Mr.  Sandford,  and  a 
slight  flush  was  manifest  on  his  bronzed  cheek,  as  he  re 
plied  : 

"  An  innate  propensity  to  evil !  born  with  it,  do  you 
think,  sir  ?  " 

Mr.  Sandford  clearly  perceived  that  the  idea  was  repul 
sive  to  the  gentleman,  and  not  wishing  to  get  into  an  ar 
gument  on  original  sin,  and  moreover,  for  some  reason 
rather  pleased  with  the  peculiar  manner  and  appearance 
of  the  young  man,  he  chose  to  avoid  a  direct  answer,  by 
saying : 

"  No  doubt  much,  if  not  most  of  the  bad  dispositions 
and  departures  from  the  right  path  is  owing  to  unfortu 
nate  management  and  improper  example." 

"  The  countenance  of  the  young  man  brightened  up  as 
he  replied : 

"  Have  you  seen  the  last  number  of  the  London  Quar 
terly?" 

"  I  take  that  work,  sir,  but  have  been  too  busy  to  look 
at  it  since  it  was  out." 


134  LOOKING   AROUND. 

"  I  am  just  reading  an  able  article  in  it,  on  the  instincts 
and  training  of  animals,  and  I  find  the  writer  classes  chil 
dren  among  them,  although  he  makes  this  distinction  — 
*  the  inferior  animals  act  from  instinct  alone,  man  from  im 
itation  ;  but  that  some  of  the  higher  grades  of  animals 
approach  quite  nearly  to  man  in  manifesting  a  degree  of 
imitative  power. ' ' 

"  Doubtless  man  has  his  types  in  the  lower  orders  of 
creation,  both  in  physical  structure  and  in  his  mental  or 
ganization,  and  yet  between  the  two  an  infinite  chasm  ex 
ists,  never  to  be  passed  over." 

The  young  man  seemed  to  be  revolving  the  subject  in 
his  mind,  as  though  not  quite  prepared  to  reply,  and  Mr. 
Sandford  took  the  opportunity  to  change  the  subject  by 
addressing  his  little  boy  : 

"  Conie,  my  boy,  now  give  the  gentleman  his  knife  ;  we 
have  intruded  Igng  enough  and  kept  him  from  his  book." 

"  By  no  means,  sir.  I  ought  rather  to  apologize  for  thus 
isolating  myself  with  a  book ;  it  would  be  more  appropri 
ate  in  a  larger  vessel." 

Obedient  to  his  father's  word,  the  little  fellow  held  it 
up,  but  looked  so  wistfully,  first  at  the  gentleman  and  then 
up  at  his  father,  that  the  former  requested  he  might  be 
permitted  to  retain  it,  and  added  : 

"  Captain  Joe  tells  me  that  you  are  about  to  settle  in 
our  vicinity,  and  although  they  say  a  knife  is  not  a  prop 
er  friendship's  offering,  yet  I  think  this  young  gentleman" 
will  remember  me  by  it,  and  I  shall  be  happy  if  it  prove 
the  means  by  which  he  and  I  shall  form  a  better  acquain 
tance.  Please  let  him  keep  it,  sir." 

Mr.  Sandford  could  not  well  under  the  circumstances 
force  the  little  fellow  to  give  up  his  prey,  but  in  a  low  tone 
replied : 

"Perhaps  he  will  tire  of  it  in  a  short  time  and  be  wil 
ling  to  relinquish  it.  It  is  almost  too  valuable  a  play 
thing." 

It  was  indeed  a  beautiful  specimen  of  its  kind,  the  han 
dle  being  of  solid  silver,  very  tastefully  embellished  with 
carved  scenes. 

Mr.  Sandford  was  about  to  ask  the  gentleman  some 
questions  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  his  residence,  when  his 


LOOKING   AROUND.  135 

name  was  called,  and  turning  saw  his  wife  beckoning  him, 
and  both  she  and  the  young  lady  whom  we  have  called 
Eva,  looking  towards  the  eastern  shore,  the  latter  pointing . 
with  her  finger  to  some  locality  there. 

"My  dear,  do  look  yonder;  Eva  says  that  is  'Sleepy 
Hollow,'  the  scene  of  Irving's  beautiful  story." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have  just  been  looking  at  it ;  that  young 
gentleman  has  pointed  it  out  to  me,  and  I  was  coming  to 
give  you  the  information.  Who  told  y»u  of  it,  Eva  ?  " 

"  I  asked  the  captain  to  let  me  know  when  we  should 
be  opposite  Sing  Sing,  and  I  knew  '  Sleepy  Hollow '  was 
in  that  vicinity,  but  I  cannot  distinguish  that  particular 
spot.  The  captain  does  not  know  anything  about '  Sleepy 
Hollow,'  but  he  says  that  village  is  Sing  Sing." 

Mr.  Sandford  then  directed  them  to  the  locality  as  it 
ha'd  been  designated  to  him. 

"  What  is  it  you're  looking  at  ?  "  said  Mr.  Blanchard, 
coming  up  in  a  familiar  way,  and  addressing  the  young 
lady. 

Miss  Eva  coloi-ed  slightly,  as  she  replied, 

"  We  are  looking  for  the  spot  where  Mr.  Irving  laid  the 
scene  of  his  legend  of  '  Sleepy  Hollow.' " 

" '  Sleepy  Hpllow ! '  it  must  be  a  dull  kind  of  a  place. 
What  does  he  say  about  it  ?  " 

As  the  young  lady  could  not  very  easily  have  given  a 
satisfactory  answer  without  entering  into  the  details  of 
the  story,  she  preferred  to  make  no  reply,  and  commenced 
playing  with  Carlos,  admiring  the  beautiful  plaything 
which  he  was  forcing  upon  her  attention.  Mr.  Blanchard 
therefore  stepped  up  to  Mr.  Sandford,  and  putting  his 
hand  in  a  familiar  way  upon  that  gentleman's  shoulder. 

"  I  say,  Sandford,  what  is  there  about  that  place  you  are 
all  looking  at  ?  " 

"  Have  you  not  read  the  '  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,'  by 
our  countryman,  Washington  Irving  ?  " 

"Me  —  no.  I  never  read  anything  but  the  newspapers, 
but  what  is  there  about  it  so  curious  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sandford  looked  at  Eva  and  smiled ;  that  young 
lady,  however,  did  not  smile  in  return ;  her  countenance 
had  rather  a  serious  expression. 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr. 


136  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Sandford,  "  what  charm  there  is  about  it,  if  you  have  not 
read  the  work,  but  depend  upon  it,  '  Sleepy  Hollow '  will 
be  as  famous  in  future  in  our  country,  as  '  Loch  Lomond ' 
is  in  Scotland.  It  is  wonderful  what  power  such  writers 
have  to  invest  the  localities  where  they  lay  their  scenes, 
with  deep  interest." 

The  last  idea  was  addressed  to  his  wife,  but  Mr.  Blan- 
chard  interrupted  her  by  saying : 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Sandford,  you're  all  looking  over 
yonder  to  see  something  that  don?t  seem  to  me  much  to 
look  at,  while  on  'tother  side  of  the  river  is  a  sight  that  I 
can't  keep  my  eyes  off." 

"What is  it? "  and  Mr.  Sandford  turned  as  he  spoke. 

"  There  !  a  pretty  serious  business  as  I  take  it,  and  here 
are  we  in  the  middle  of  Tappan  Bay,  and  a  tremendous 
gust  just  upon  us.  Isn't  it  black  !  " 

It  was  indeed  rather  a  threatening  object.  The  mass 
of  vapor  that  was  rolling  up,  gathering  together  its  moun 
tain  heaps,  as  though  charged  with  mighty  stores  of  de 
struction,  had  already  obscured  the  sun,  and  its  dark  shad 
ow  reflected  from  the  broad  expanse  of  water,  gave  a  som 
bre  aspect  to  the  whole  scenery  in  that  direction. 

"  We  shall  have  an  awful  time  of  it,  mind  my  words. 
I  wish  1  was  safe  on  land  ;  a  plague  take  these  boats." 

"It  will  likely  be  a  flurry  and  soon  over.  I  have  often 
noticed  that  when  the  clouds  are  so  very  dark  and  threat 
ening,  they  soon  dissipate  as  the  wind  gets  under  them, 
and  scatter  wildly  over  the  heavens  without  affecting  us 
much  below  ;  they  are  a  grand  sight,  though ! " 

"There  !  the  wind  is  shifting  —  they  are  hauling  in  the 
mainsail  —  it  ought  to  be  lowered  at  once.  Come,  Sand- 
ford,  go  with  me  and  let's  speak  to  the  captain." 

"  Oh,  by  no  means.  He  knows  his  own  business  best, 
and  may  not  like  any  inteference." 

"  Like  it  or  not  like  it,  I  shall  speak  to  him  ;  he  has  no 
business  to  be  carrying  sail  when  a  squall  is  likely  to  cap 
size  us  at  any  minute,  and  women  and  children  on  board, 
too." 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Blanchard  looked  at  the  ladies,  but 
whatever  may  have  been  their  feelings,  neither  of  them 
showed  any  signs  of  being  in  the  least  alarmed. 


LOOKING   AROUND.  137 

• 

Mr.  Sandford,  however,  seeing  that  the  storm  was  rap 
idly  approaching,  intimated  to  the  ladies  that  it  might  be 
better  for  them  to  go  into  the  cabin,  as  they  would  be  in 
the  way  when  the  squall  came ;  they  immediately  de 
scended,  while  he  followed,  leading  his  boy  by  the  hand. 
Mr.  Blanchard  had,  in  the  mean  time,  ascended  the  after 
deck  to  make  known  his  opinion  to  the  captain. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  captain,  we  are  going  to  have  a  terri 
ble  squall ;  had  you  not  better  lower  sail  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  yet,  sir." 

"  But  they  come  very  sudden,  sometimes ;  and  remem 
ber,  you  have  got  women  and  children  on  board,  sir." 

"  They  don't  seem  to  be  much  alarmed." 

"  They  don't  know  the  danger." 

"But  I  do,  sir — haul  that  jib  a  little  tauter,"  calling 
aloud  to  the  men  at  the  fore  sheet.  "  You  see  that  boat 
ahead  there,  sir,"  again  addressing  the  gentleman  by  his 
side.  "She  has  just  lowered  her  sail,  and  they  lie  there 
at  the  mercy  of  the  wind.  I  presume  they  have  no  oars, 
if  they  had,  they  never  could  reach  the  shore  before  the 
storm  comes.  It's  a  small  boat,  and  unless  we  take  them 
up,  I  tear  there'll  be  mischief.  Stand  by  the  halyards, 
now,  with  a  single  turn,"  again  addressing  his  men. 

"Captain,"  said  the  young  gentleman  who  had  left  his 
position  at  the  bow,  and  had  come  in  haste  to  the  quarter 
deck,  "  there  is  a  small  boat  with  two  ladies  and  a  man, 
they  must  be  in  great  danger ;  cannot  we  take  them  up  ?  " 

"  I  am  doing  my  best  for  it,  Mr.  Roland,  they  are  in  a 
bad  situation.  I  mean  to  hold  on  as  long  as  possible,  the 
wind  freshens,  though  —  five  minutes  is  all  I  ask.  Will 
you  run  to  the  main  hatch,  and  uncoil  line  enough  as  far 
as  you  think  you  can  throw,,  and  be  ready  the  moment  we 
are  within  reach  ?  I  dare  not  let  a  man  leave  tho  hal 
yards." 

The  young  man  sprang  nimbly  forward,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  more  he  stood  with  the  coil  in  his  hand  and  ready  to 
perform  his  part. 

The  storm  had  burst  on  the  opposite  shore,  A  cloud 
of  dust  obscured  the  whole  horizon  in  that  direction.  A 
stiff  breeze  as  yet  was  only  felt  on  board  the  sloop,  but  as 
her  sails  were  hauled  close  to  the  wind,  she  felt  it  much 


138  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

• 

more  than  was  comfortable  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  or  than  he 
thought  was  by  any  means  safe,  for  her  lee  gunwale  was 
near  the  water.  <••£•" 

t  "  Captain,  captain  ! "  he  called  out  as  he  held  fast  to  the 
upper  rail  of  the  main  deck.  "  This  is  too  bad !  you  are 
risking  the  lives  of  all  your  passengers."  A  vivid  flash 
of  lightning,  followed  almost  immediately  by  a  tremen 
dous  p.eal  of  thunder,  prevented  any  further  remonstrance 
on  the  part  of  the  terrified  gentleman.  He  shut  his  eyes, 
resting  himself  on  the  deck,  and  held  on  with  both  hands. 

"  Had  you  not  better  go  below  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  sir.  Not  for  a  thousand  dollars  would  I  be  in 
that  cabin.  You  are  not  doing  your  duty,  sir  ?  " 

The  captain  made  no  reply ;  his  mind  was  intently  oc 
cupied  with  care  for  his  own  vessel  and  for  the  safety  6f 
those  so  exposed  to  imminent  danger. 

The  small  boat  was  now  near  at  hand.  The  persons  on 
board  of  her  could  be  distinctly  seen  looking  fixedly  to 
wards  the  sloop,  and  one  of  the  ladies  was  waving  a  hand 
kerchief  to  attract  their  notice.  Young  Roland  at  once 
took  off  his  hat  and  waved  it  in  token  that  they  were 
seen.  The  storm  was  also  near.  It  had  struck  the  wa 
ters  of  the  bay,  and  a  long  stretch  of  white  foam  could  be 
seen  sweeping  on  wildly  towards  them.  Presently  there 
was  a  rushing  sound,  and  the~loud  voice  of  the  captain 
rang  out : 

"  Let  all  go< — down  with  mainsail  and  jib;" 

The  roaring  wind,  the  rattling  block  and  the  flapping 
sails,  created  for  the  moment  a  scene  of  confusion  that  was 
by  no  means  very  comforting.  The  captain  himself  could 
hardly  discern  whether  the  object  he  had  in  view  was  at 
tained.  He  knew  the  boat  was  within  reach,  and  that  the 
rope  had  been  thrown,  but  whether  the  man  on  board  of 
her  caught  it,  or  whether  the  boat  had  been  swamped  by 
the  waves,  he  knew  not.  His  whole  attention  for  some 
moments  was  absorbed  in  the  muneuvers  of  his  men  and 
his  own  duty  at  the  tiller.  His  doubt  however,  were  soon 
dispelled  by  seeing  the  three  passengers  of  the  little  boat, 
assisted  by  young  Roland,  clambering  on  board.  It  was 
however,  only  by  a  desperate  spring  that  the  young  man 
caught  the  shrouds,  for  the  boat  filled  as  he  was  aiding  the 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  139 

last  lady  to  ascend  the  side  of  the  sloop ;  all  were  saved 
however.  The  ladies  at  once  descended  to  the  cabin, 
while  the  young  man  grasped  the  hand  of  him  whom  he 
supposed  to  be  his  deliverer. 

"  May  God  bless  you  for  your  timely  aid ;  you  have 
saved  my  sisters  and  myself." 

"  You  must  thank  the  captain,"  said  young  Roland,  "  he 
held  on  sail  as  long  as  he  dared." 

"  You  are  not  the  captain,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  only  a  passenger.     Yonder  he  is  at  the  tiller." 

The  young   man,  not  heeding  wind   or  rain,  at  once 
mounted  the  deck,  and  offered  his  hand. 

"  Can't  take  your  hand  now,  sir  —  glad  you  are  safe  on 
board." 

"  Our  lives,  captain,  have  been  saved  by  your  kindness." 

"  Perhaps  so,  we  cannot  say,  however.     Walk  into  the 
cabin  until  the  squall  is  over." 

"  Can  I  not  be  of  some  use,  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  if  yon  please,  you  can  help  in  hauling  in  the 
main  sheet." 

Young  Roland  was  already  there  aiding  two  of  the 
hands  in  gathering  in  the  folds  of  the  sail  which  had  been 
lowered  by  the  run  and  lumbered  the  leeward  side  of  the 
deck.  The  stranger  sprang  at  the  captain's  suggestion  and 
laid  hold  with  a  right  good  will.  The  storm  meanwhile 
raged  with  great  violence,  but  as  it  was  steady  in  its  force 
and  the  sails  were  down  with  the  exception  of  enough  of 
the  jib  to  give  efficiency  to  her  helm,  there  was  no  appar 
ent  danger.  The  gale  lasted  only  about  twenty  minutes, 
but  as  it  ceased  the  electrical  discharges  began.  The 
clouds  seemed  to  be  suspended  over  the  bay ;  flash  after 
flash  gleamed  across  the  dark  water,  and  crashing  thunder 
followed  quick,  reverberating  from  the  surrounding  moun 
tains.  It  would  have  been  grand  if  unaccompanied  to 
those  in  the  vessel  with  manifest  danger.  How  much  this 
was  appreciated  by  the  most  on  board  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  say ;  no  one  expressed  apprehension  but  our 
passenger,  whom  we  left  at  the  outburst  of  the  storm 
clinging  to  the  upper  railing  of  the  quarter  deck.  He  had 
fairly  squatted  down,  lying  partly  on  one  side,  his  feet 
drawn  up,  his  hat  slouched  over  his  eyes,  and  was  no 


140  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

doubt  expecting  every  moment  when  he  should  be  oblig 
ed  to  clamber  on  the  side  of  a  miserable  wreck,  "  all  in 
consequence  of  the  fool-hardihood  of  an  ignorant  captain." 
The  lulling  of  the  gale,  however,  and  the  terrific  peals  of 
thunder  evidently  aroused  him  to  a  new  sense  of  danger. 
The  mast  was  high  and  the  electric  cloud,  as  he  thought, 
very  low.  He  could  not  ask  the  captain  to  have  the  for 
mer  lowered,  and  therefore  said  nothing  to  that  gentle 
man  ;  he  came,  however,  to  the  conclusion  that  the  cabin 
would  be  rather  a  safer  place  than  the  deck,  and  had  risen 
very  cautiously,  making  his  way  to  the  cabin  hatch,  when 
a  blinding  flash  of  lightning,  followed  instantly  by  a  crash 
that  sound  like  the  breaking  up  of  the  earth's  foundation, 
impelled  him  to  a  descent  below  that  was  something  of 
the  quickest ;  in  fact  he  knew  nothing,  as  he  afterward  said, 
until  he  found  himself  opening  the  door  of  the  after  cabin. 
Seeing  ladies  there,  however,  he  immediately  stepped  back, 
and  finally  threw  himself  on  the  seat  that  ran  beneath  the 
births. 

"  You  are  not  afraid  are  you  ?  "  said  an  old  lady  —  to 
Aunt  Lizzie  as  she  has  been  called  —  who  was  sitting  by 
her  side  wringing  her  hands  and  rocking  herself  back  and 
forth,  with  a  countenance  deadly  pale. 

Nothing  makes  a  man  feel  more  foolish  than  having  ex 
hibited  unnecessary  haste  in  avoiding  danger  when  his 
efforts  to  do  so  are  entirely  uncalled  for.  Mr.  Blanchard 
was  old  enough  to  have  known  that  the  danger  to  him  was 
past,  when  he  saw  the  glare  of  lightning;  conscious  of 
the  weakness  he  had  shown,  he  was  therefore  not  a  little 
nettled  on  turning  around,  to  see  Mr.  Sandford  with  a 
smile  on  his  countenance,  sitting  quite  composedly,  hold 
ing  his  boy  on  his  knee.  Hearing  at  the  same  time  the 
remark  of  the  old  lady,  and  supposing  of  course  that  it 
was  addressed  to  him,  looked  rather  stern,  and  replied  : 

"Me,  madam?" 

"  Oh  la !  no,  sir.  Men,  I  believe,  are  never  frightened  at 
thunder,  it  is  only  women  and  children,  they  say ;  but  it's 
no  iise  to  be  scared.  The  lightning  is  in  God's  hands, 
and  it  strikes  just  where  he  bids  it ;  some  people  I've  seen, 
jump  and  start  and  run,  first  here  and  then  there,  but  I 
always  tell  'em  there's  no  use  in  it ;  it  will  catch  'em  if  it's 


LOOKING   AROUND.  141 

sent  after  them.     We  are  all  in  his  hands,  and  that's  a 
blessed  thought." 

Mr.  Blanchard,  no  doubt,  heard  the(  remarks  of  the  old 
lady,  but  as  he  found  he  had  been  mistaken  in  supposing 
she  had  refei-red  to  himself  in  her  first  remarks,  he  did  not 
feel  called  upon  to  take  any  notice  of  what  she  said,  so  he 
took  a  seat  by  Mr.  Sandford. 

"  Rather  a  bluster  we  have  had,  sir,"  said  the  gentle 
man. 

"  A  terrible  storm,  sir !  these  captains  are  not  to  be 
trusted,  they  are  fool  hardy  ;  its  .a  great  wonder  we  have 
not  all  been  swamped  —  one  minute  more  and  she  would 
have  capsized." 

"He  seems  a  fine  fellow,  though,  that  captain,  and 
since  we  have  been  carried  safely  through,  we  must  give 
him  credit  for  it.  It  appears  he  held  on  sail  for  the  pur 
pose  of  rescuing  a  little  party  in  a  small  boat ;  it  would 
have  been  terrible  for  them  to  have  been  left  to  the  mer 
cy  of  such  a  tempest  —  they  must  have  perished." 

"  Yes,  that's  all  well  enough,  but  they  had  no  business 
to  be  out  sailing  at  such  a  time." 

"  It  seems  they  are  a  brother  and  two  sisters,  who  had 
crossed  the  river  and  were  returning,  and  did  not  notice  the 
approaching  gust  until  they  had  got  too  far  from  the  other 
side  to  think  of  going  back.  They  had  to  take  down 
their  sail  for  fear  of  the  wind,  and  had  no  oars  on  board  ; 
that  was  careless,  to  be  sure,  but  they  would  have  done 
them  but  little  good,  as  there  was  but  one  man  with  them." 
Just  then  the  ladies'  cabin-door  was  opened,  and  the 
gentlemen  rose  to  offer  them  seats,  and  soon  a  very  lively 
conversation  was  began  and  kept  up  for  some  time,  in 
which  Mr.  Blanchard  tried  his  best  to  take  a  part.  He 
felt  quite  sure  that  the  ladies  at  least  had  not  witnessed 
the  scenes  on  deck,  or  that  of  his  descent  into  the  cabin, 
and  he  was  evidently  trying  to  make  himself  agreeable. 
The  two  ladies  who  had  so  suddenly  made  an  addition  to 
the  party,  were  quite  young  —  the  eldest  not  apparently 
over  seventeen,  and  the  younger  probably  fourteen.  They 
might  both  be  called  handsome,  but  the  appearance  of  the 
elder  was  decidedly  captivating,  and  in  using  this  term  to 
express  her  beauty,  it  relieves  us  from  the  necessity  of  be- 


142  LOOKING   AROUND. 

ing  particular  in  delineating  her  features  ;  for  all  know  that 
the  charm  of  mere  expression  of  countenance,  depends 
not  upon  any  stereotyped  cast.  It  attracts  our  admiration 
perhaps,  at  the  first  glance  —  its  power  over  us  increases 
as  we  gaze  —  sometimes  we  are  almost  ready  to  judge 
that  it  is  the  finely  arched  lips,  or  its  ruby  color,  and  then 
again  we  give  the  credit  to  the  dimpled  cheek,  with  its 
radiant  skin,  or  the  soft  eyes  so  richly  shaded.  They  each, 
.  no  doubt,  help  to  give  power  to  the  rest,  nor  do  we  care 
to  which  the  greater  charm  may  be  attributed.  She  was 
tall  for  her  age,  of  graceful  form,  her  hair  quite  dark,  and 
rather  carelessly  dressed,  or  more  properly,  arranged  with 
out  much  design.  There  was  a  luxuriance  of  it,  and  that 
it  should  not  be  in  the  way,  seemed  the  aim  of  its  OAvner, 
rather  than  to  make  the  most  of  it  as  an  ornament ;  it 
formed,  however,  a  rich  background  to  her  finely  moulded 
face.  Mr.  Blanchard  was  evidently  much  taken  with  this 
new  vision,  and  really  deserved  a  rebuke  if  any  one  could 
have  administered  it  with  propriety,  for  the  persistency  of 
his  stare  —  even  while  talking  to  others  his  eye  would  be 
directed  that  way.  But  Mr.  Blanchard's  gaze  can  do  no 
harm,  it  is  a  very  innocent  token  of  his  sensibility  to  per 
sonal  charms.  Mr.  Blanchard's  heart  is  turned  in  another 
direction. 

There  was,  however,  an  exception  to  be  made  of  Miss 
Eva  to  the  remark  above,  "  that  there  was  a  lively  flow  of 
of  conversation,"  for  some  cause  her  manner  had  changed. 
She  had  been  conspicuous  for  animation  during  the  whole 
scene  of  the  storm,  trying  to  cheer  up  the  elderly  lady 
whom  we  have  styled  Aunt  Lizzy,  and  it  was  not  until 
some  little  conversation  had  been  held  between  herself 
and  the  two  young  strangers,  and  they  as  was  natural  had 
made  some  revelation  of  themselves  and  their  companion, 
and  now  Miss  Eva  seems  to  be  in  an  uneasy  frame,  of 
mind.  She  enters  not  heartily  into  any  thing  that  is 
said ;  her  fine,  fresh  color  too  has  departed  —  her  eye  turns 
as  it  were,  involuntarily  towards  the  cabin-door.  At 
length  voices  are  heard  near  the  companion  way  —  two 
young  men  stand  side  by  side  there  a  few  moments  — 
they  are  in  earnest  converse,  and  their  voices  are  distinct 
ly  heard  in  the  cabin.  One  of  them  is  the  young  man 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  143 

whom  we  have  called  Roland,  and  the  other  is  the  one 
who  had  been  rescued  from  peril  in  the  small  boat. 

"  I  do  believe,  sister  Julia,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two 
young  ladies,  a"nd  the  one  of  whom  we  have  given  some 
particulars,  "  that  brother  William  has  met  some  old  ac 
quaintance  ;  he  seems  so  absorbed  as  hardly  to  think  of 
us." 

"  He  knows,"  replied  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  that  you  are  safe 
in  the  cabin  —  but  here  he  comes." 

"  I  should  think,  Master  Willie,  you  had  almost  forgot 
ten  us." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  good  sister,  I  never  do  that,  but  —  as  he 
was  saying  this  he  suddenly  paused ;  his  eye  in  passing 
around  the  cabin,  had  fixed  in  an  instant  upon  Miss  Eva. 
A  moment  he  hesitated,  and  then  stepped  towards  her ; 
she  arose,  their  hands  were  clasped,  but  not  a  word  spok 
en,  and  there  was  for  a  few  seconds  perfect  silence  in  the 
little  cabin.  All  seemed  surprised.  At  length  the  gentle 
man  said,  still  retaining  her  hand  : 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  my  sisters  ? 
you  have  often  heard  me  speak  of  them  —  Miss  Eva  Stan 
ley." 

"  And  often  and  often  have  we  heard  your  name.  Oh, 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you,"  said  the  elder  sister,  sealing 
her  words  with  a  kiss,  while  the  younger  earnestly  offer 
ed  the  same  kind  salutation. 

Either  the  warmth  of  the  greeting,  or  some  other  cause 
has  however,  had  a  powerful  effect  on  Miss  Eva;  her 
face  is  highly  flushed  and  she  seems  much  agitated.  The 
tears  have  started,  and  breaking  from  the  circle,  she  has 
tens  to  the  after  cabin,  followed  at  once  by  Mrs.  Sandford. 
The  young  gentleman,  too,  gave  tokens  that  his  own  feel 
ings  were  in  a  disturbed  state,  for  his  face  was  highly  flush 
ed,  and  his  mind  confused.  A  diversion,  however,  was 
immediately  granted  to  his  thoughts,  whatever  they  may 
have  been ;  it  was  caused  by  a  remark  from  Mr.  Sand- 
ford. 

"  Our  storm  seems  to  be  about  over,  sir." 

The  young  man  turned  towards  the  speaker  as  if  to  as 
certain  whether  the  address  was  intended  for  him,  and  as 
he  did  so  his  eye  fell  upon  the  glum  countenance  of  Mr. 


144  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Blanchard,  who  had  taken  a  seat  near  Mr.  Sandford.  A 
moment  it  fixed  a  stern  and  piercing  gaze  before  which 
the  eye  of  Blanchard  quailed  and  turned  away,  and  the 
young  man  then  instantly,  with  a  sudden  change  of  aspect 
replied  to  Mr.  Sandford : 

"  So  it  seems,  sir.  It  was  quite  violent  for  a  few  mo 
ments —  indeed,  I  never  felt  so  much  in  danger  in  the 
wildest  storm  on  the  ocean,  as  when  in  that  small  boat." 

"  And  I  think,"  said  the  captain,  who  was  just  then  de 
scending  the  stairs,  "  you  were  likely  in  more  real  dan 
ger." 

"  And  I  know  not,  sir,"  said  the  young  man  at  the  same 
time  taking  the  captain's  hand,  "  how  to  express  my 
thanks  sufficiently  for  the  prompt  manner  in  which  you 
came  to  our  relief;  it  was  a  venture  on  your  part  many 
would  have  hesitated  to  make." 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  don't  need  any  thanks.  I  saw  you  had  la 
dies  aboard,  and  a  man  will  venture  a  good  deal  before  he 
will  see  them  harmed."  As  he  said  this,  his  eye  glanced 
towards  the  two  young  ladies,  at  the  same  time  making  a 
slight  obeisance. 

"  And  I  can  assure  you,  sir,"  said  the  elder  of  the  two, 
"  the  ladies  do  not  lightly  prize  your  noble  efforts,  we  feel 
deeply  indebted  to  you." 

The  captain  bowed  again,  and  then  turned  and  fixed  a 
quizzical  look  at  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  was  in  quite  an  un 
pleasant  state  of  mind  for  some  cause  unknown  to  most 
of  those  about  him.  The  captain  seemed  about  to  speak 
to  him,  but  as  if  upon  reflection  having  changed  his  mind, 
turned  to  the  young  man  he  had  first  addressed. 

"  I  suppose  the  rain  will  cease  in  a  few  moments,  as  the 
sky  is  quite  clear  in  the  west ;  perhaps  you  would  wish  to 
be  put  ashore  ?  " 

"  It  would  certainly  be  a  great  favor  to  us,  but  I  hardly 
dare  ask  it,  captain.  Our  boat  I  suppose  has  gone  to  the 
bottom  ?  " 

"Not  so  bad  as  that.  I  kept  my  eye  on  her,  and  have 
sent  a  couple  of  hands  for  her.  They  are  towing  her  up, 
she  is  full  of  water  though  at  present ;  that,  however,  we 
can  soon  bail  out  when  we  get  her  along  side,  but  she  will 
not  answer  very  well  for  ladies.  Our  boat  will  be  much 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  145 

more  comfortable,  and  we  will  see  you  safe  ashore ;  we 
have  run  somewhat  above  Sing  Sing,  but  I  presume  our 
ladies  and  gentlemen  here  will  not  object  to  our  laying 
to  for  such  a  purpose." 

"  By  no  means,  captain,"  replied  Mr.  Sandford,  "  that  is, 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned,  and  no  doubt  we  all  feel  ready 
to  accommodate." 

One  or  two  men  in  plain  farmer's  dress  who  were  seat 
ed  in  one  corner  of  the  cabin,  answered  quite  promptly : 

"  By  all  means,  Captain  Joe,  it's  all  right." 

Mr.  Blanchard  said  nothing.  He  was  not  in  a  humor  to 
be  very  accommodating,  but  as  the  eye  of  the  captain  met 
his,  he  made  a  slight  inclination  of  his  head,  as  much  as 
to  say,  "  do  as  you  please,  sir."  He  would  no  doubt  have 
been  willing  to  have  had  the  sloop  lay  to  any  number  of 
hours,  rather  than  have  the  young  gentleman  a  passenger 
to  the  end  of  the  voyage. 

"  In  a  few  moments,  then,  if  you  will  bring  up  your  la 
dies,  we  will  be  ready  for  you,"  said  the  captain,  and 
sprang  up  the  companion-way  with  a  bound. 

The  boat  was  soon  in  readiness.  As  soon  as  he  had 
handed  them  to  their  seats  in  the  boat,  the  captain  turned 
to  the  little  group  that  had  assembled  to  witness  their  de 
parture. 

"  Would  any  of  you  ladies  like  a  sail  with  us,  there  is 
plenty  of  room." 

"  Oh,  do,  do  come,"  exclaimed  those  in  the  boat.  Do, 
Miss  Stanley." 

Eva  hesitated,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  Mrs.  Sandford. 

"  Go,  by  all  means,  if  you  feel  like  it.  I  should  like  it 
myself." 

"  Well,  madam,"  said  the  captain,  "  why  not  ?  plenty  of 
room."  , 

"  What  do  you  say,  papa  ?  "  turning  to  her  husband. 

"  Go,  certainly,  if  you  wish." 

Mrs.  Sandford  and  Miss  Eva  —  the  latter  apparently 
somewhat  in  doubt  —  but  as  though  yielding  to  the  solici 
tations  of  the  rest,  gave  their  hands  to  the  captain  and 
were  soon  in  their  seats. 

"  They  will  come  back  faster  than  they  go,"  said  Mr. 
Sandford  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  had  just  then  come  on 
7 


146  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

deck,  and  who,  not  caring  to  manifest  any  interest  in  ^  the 
departure  of  the  young  man  and  his  sisters,  had  remained 
in  the  cabin  until  he  supposed  they  were  on  their  way, 
"  that  boat  they  are  towing,  impedes  their  progress  consid 
erably." 

"  This  is  a  bad  concern,  all  around,"  was  his  answer. 

"  How  so,  my  dear  sir !  it  seems  to  me  a  very  pretty 
episode  in  our  voyage,  and  they  all  seem  so  happy." 

"It  will  delay  us  all  of  an  hour." 

«  What  is  an  hour  to  you  or  me,  Blanchard  —  what  dif 
ference  will  it  make  whether  we  get  to  our  landing  one 
hour  sooner  or  later  • —  there  is  nobody  waiting  for  us." 

"  That's  not  the  thing,  it's  the  imposition  —  but  where 
is  Eva?" 

"  Off,  too,  don't  you  see  her  yonder  ?  " 

"  Gone,  too !  what's  that  for?" 

"Oh,  just  for  the  fun  of  it — a  little  variety  —  you 
know  ladies  like  that.  I  felt  just  boy  enough  to  have 
gone  too,  but  dared  not  leave  the  young  ones." 

"  We  shall  not  get  to  the  landing  until  noon  to-moiTow, 
and  perhaps  not  before  night." 

"We  may  as  well  take  it  easy,  then.  We  have  pros 
pect  of  a  beautiful  evening,  a  clear  sky,  and  a  full  moon  ; 
it  will  be  lovely  among  the  highlands  to-night.  What  a 
beautiful  world  we  live  in,  Blanchard,  all  nature  seems  to 
be  rejoicing  and  telling  of  the  glory  of  God." 

Mr.  Sandford  might  have  gone  on  talking  to  his  heart's 
content  in  this  strain,  for  any  interruption  he  would  have 
met  from  his  companion.  The  thoughts  of  Mr.  Blan 
chard  were  too  busily  occupied  writh  other  topics,  and  be 
sides,  he  had  no  sympathy  with  such  feelings.  Rivers  to 
him  were  merely  suitable  for  navigation  —  an  easier  and 
cheaper  highway  than  the  land.  Green  fields  were  valu 
able  for  mowing  or  grazing,  and  trees  were  useful  for  fruit 
or  for  fuel.  As  for  mountains  by  moonlight !  he  could  not 
possibly  comprehend  what  beauty  there  could  be  about 
such  rugged,  rocky,  unprofitable  lumps  of  matter !  " 

Just  then,  young  Mr.  Roland  emerged  from  the  forecas 
tle,  and  seeing  the  two  gentlemen  near  at  hand,  stepped 
towards  them. 

"  I  was  wondering,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "  what  had  be 
come  of  you." 


LOOKING   AEOTTND.  147 

"  Herbert  and  I  assisted  in  furling  the  sails  until  we  got 
somewhat  sprinkled,  and  then  betook  ourselves  into  the 
forecastle  to  have  the  advantage  of  the  cook's  fire,  and  to 
talk  over  old  times." 

"Then  you  were  acquainted  with  the  young  gentle 
man?" 

"  We  were  quite  intimate  for  a  time,  when  we  were 
boys ;  we  have  played  together,  and  fought  together,  in 
fact,  I  ought  to  have  said  we  have  fought  together  and 
played  together,  for  our  acquaintance  commenced  by  a 
fight,  but  it  was  our  first  and  last  disagreement.  We 
have  not  seen  each  other  for  many  years,  however,  until 
we  so  strangely  met  to  day." 

"  He  is  a  fine  looking  fellow ;  there  is  something  very 
attractive  in  his  countenance,  do  you  not  think  so,  Mr. 
Blanchard  ?  you  saw  him,  you  know,  in  the  cabin."  This 
was  said  by  Mr.  Sandford. 

"I  didn't  see  anything  very  remarkable  about  him," 
was  the  reply.  "  He  seems  to  have  a  good  share  of  pride." 

"  He  has  some,  title  to  indulge  a  little  pride,  sir,"  replied 
Roland.  "  He  has  had  to  make  his  own  way  in  the  world, 
and  has  got  a  good  foothold  now ;  he  will  be  a  rich  man 
if  his  life  is  spared." 

"Does  he  belong  in  this  part  of  the  country  ?"  said 
Mr.  Sandford,  addressing  himself  to  Roland. 

"  I  think  he  was  born  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  state, 
but  when  I  first  knew  him,  he  was  under  the  care  of  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Ransom  of  our  town." 

"  Indeed  !  then  you  reside  in  Woodburn  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir." 

"Carry  on  farming?"  joined  in  Mr.  Blanchard,  who 
had  puzzled  himself  very  much  to  know  what  position  in 
society  the  young  man  belonged. 

"  I  do  a  little  in  that  way,  sir.' 

"  Speaking  of  Mr.  Ransom,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "  I  was 
much  pleased  with  an  interview  I  had  with  him  when  I 
was  in  Woodburn  looking  for  a  place  ;  in  fact,  I  don't  know 
but  I  must  say,  the  high  opinion  I  formed  of  him,  decided 
me  in  purchasing  there.  Is  he  thought  much  of  in  the 
place  ? ". 

"  He  is  esteemed  very  highly,  sir,  and  I  must  say  I  be- 


148  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

lievc  he  deserves  to  be ;  at  any  rate,  a  man  who  should 
speak  against  him  in  Woodburn  would  get  his  head  into 
a  hornet's  nest  at  once." 

"  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  the  right  kind  of  a  minister, 
especially  in  the  country  ;  they  have  generally  more  influ 
ence  in  many  ways  in  forming  the  character,  and  giving  a 
tone  to  society,  than  they  can  possibly  have  in  the  city ; 
that  is,  if  they  are  what  they  ought  to  be." 

"  There  is  a  great  difference  in  them,  however,"  replied 
Mr.  Roland.  "Some  we  had  have  never  did  much  to 
affect  the  state  of  society  for  good  or  evil.  Mr.  Ransom, 
though,  I  must  confess,  has  had  a  mighty  influence  in  our 
place  ;  he  seems  to  be  a  man  of  good,  common  sense. 
One  thing  is  singular  about  him  ;  although  a  very  temper 
ate  man  himself,  and  one  who  long  before  the  temperance 
movement  set  an  example,  as  I  have  been  told,  to  his 
brother  clergy,  yet  will  have  nothing  to  do  personally  with 
the  movement." 

"That  is  singular  !  does  he  not  approve  of  it  ? " 

"  I  have  never  been  intimate  with  him,  and  therefore 
have  no  means  of  knowing  his  peculiar  reasons ;  but 
from  what  I  have  seen  myself  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
thing  is  managed,  I  am  not  at  all  surprised  that  a  man  of 
the  good  sense  I  take  him  to  have,  should  have  some 
scruples  about  the  propriety  and  efficacy  of  their  meas 
ures." 

"  I  don't  approve  of  all  their  measures,  myself,  but  have 
you  no  temperance  society  in  your  place  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  sir,  but  the  people  manage  the  affair.  He 
says,  as  I  am  told,  that  it  properly  belongs  to  them  ;  that 
his  business  is  to  preach  the  gospel  —  that  temperance  as 
well  as  other  virtues  which  the  Bible  inculcates,  it  is  part 
of  his  duty  to  enforce  by  precept  and  example,  and  that 
it  is  his  aim  to.leave  none  of  them  without  due  attention." 

"  Do  you  not  have  temperance  lecturers  come  among 
you?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir,  but  the  church  is  never  opened  to  them. 
Mr.  Ransom  seems  in  that  respect  to  have  adopted  the 
views  of  the  Episcopal  church.  He  says,  'a  building  con 
secrated  to  the  worship  of  God,  is  too  sacred  a  place  to  be 
used  for  the  purpose  of  having  all  kind  of  loose  and  vul- 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  149 

gar  anecdotes  related,  and  especially  by  men  who  pretend 
to  be  reformed  drunkards,  retailing  with  unblushing 
cheeks  accounts  of  their  former  drunken  scrapes ;  and  I 
must  say  I  respect  him  for  the  stand  he  has  taken  in  that 
particular.  I  should  say,  from  what  1  have  heard  from  the 
lips  of  those  lecturers  myself,  that  it  would  be  a  profa 
nation." 

"I  have  had,  I  must  say,  such  thoughts  myself,  when 
I  have  been  listening  to  some  of  those  persons.  The 
pulpit  did  not  seem  to  me  just  the  right  place  for  them, 
nor  a  church  a  proper  place  for  exhibitions.  But  do  the 
people  give  in  to  him  ?  Does  it  not  make  some  distur 
bance  among  them  ?  You  know  there  is  a  great  amount 
of  feeling  waked  up  on  this  subject ;  not  only  individuals 
but  ministers  are  denounced  if  they  do  not  fall  in  and 
help  along  the  cause." 

"  He  has  a  strong  hold  of  his  people  I  imagine,  sir ; 
they  seem  to  think  he  is  about  right.  I  have  heard  of 
no  disturbance.  There  is  a  rumor  that  he  has  had  a  call 
though,  from  the  city,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  good  deal 
of  apprehension  by  some  that  he  will  accept ;  the  salary 
offered  is  three  or  four  times  as  much  as  he  gets  here." 

"  Then  I  fear  he  will  accept.  Somehow  our  ministers 
manage^to  reconcile  it  to  their  conscience,  to  leave  their 
people,  even  if  things  are  ever  so  satisfactory.  The  plea 
is  '  a  larger  sphere  of  usefulness.'  You  attend  his  church, 
I  presume." 

The  young  man  colored  somewhat  and  manifested  some 
confusion,  as  he  replied  : 

"  I  attend  there  occasionally.  I  go  there  when  I  go 
anywhere  —  but  here  comes  the  boat." 

"  Ah^indeed,  so  it  is." 

Mr.  Blanchard  now  came  up.  He  had  not  remained  to 
take  part  in  the  conversation  ;  his  mind  was  in  a  restless 
state,  and  not  in  a  mood  for  Entering  into  the  concern  of 
either  ministers,  parishes,  or  the  public  in  general.  He 
was,  however,  much  concerned  for  some  one  in  that  little 
boat,  and  as  it  neared  the  sloop,  watched  apparently  each 
sweep  of  the  oars  with  deep  interest. 

"  They  have  had  a  fine  time  I  imagine,  they  all  seem 
lively  and  happy."  This  remark  was  addressed  to  Mr. 


150  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Blanchard,  as  the  young  gentleman  had  withdrawn  a  lit 
tle  one  side  from  those  who  were  more  particularly  con 
cerned  in  her  arrival,  but  the  boat  was  near  enough  to  en 
able  those  on  board  to  catch  its  meaning. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  we  have  had 
a  delightful  time,  both  of  us,  only  Eva  seems  down-hearted 
on  the  return  trip." 

Eva  colored  a  little,  as  she  at  that  moment  gave  her 
hand  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  was  eagerly  holding  out  his 
for  that  purpose. 

"  So  you  run  away  without  asking,"  was  the  salutation 
she  received  as  she  sprang,  with  his  assistance,  to  the  deck. 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment  as  though  desirous  of  as 
certaining  whether  the  remark  was  made  in  jest  or  ear 
nest.  She  probably  comprehended  its  meaning  as  intend 
ed,  for  she  made  no  reply  whatever. 

"  Yes,  papa,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  we  have  had  a  most 
delightful  trip  of  it,  and  we  both  feel  truly  grateful  to  our 
captain  here,  for  his  kind  invitation,  and  for  all  the  pains 
he  has  taken  to  make  it  pleasant." 

"  I  hope,  madam,  the  trip  has  given  you  a  good  appetite 
for  supper,  which  I  guess  is  now  ready  for  us." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

We  left  our  passengers,  in  the  last  chapter,  about  to  take 
their  places  at  the  supper  table,  but  as  suppers  on  board 
sloops  arc  no  great  affairs,  we  will  pass  and  take  a  look  at 
things  on  deck,  about  the  hour  of  nine  o'clock.  The 
breeze  had  been  quite  favorable,  and  with  one  or  two 
short  tacks  after  entering  the  highlands,  they  were  ena 
bled  to  make  fair  headway ;  it  was  now  evidently  dying 
away.  The  sails  were  not  filled,  and  scarcely  a  ripple 
could  be  heard  at  the  bow  of  the  boat.  But  the  scenery 


LOOKING  AROUND.  151 

around  there  was  of  a  character  which  one  who  had  any 
taste  for  the  beautiful  and  even  the  grand,  would  not  wish 
to  hurry  through.  They  had  passed  the  famous  promon 
tories  of  Dunderberg  and  Anthony's  Nose.  Mountains 
arose  before  them  and  behind  them  and  on  every  side,  in 
varied  outlines  —  some  conical,  wooded  to  the  summit  — 
some  rising  boldly  from  the  water,  presenting  a  huge  sur 
face  of  broken  rock,  spotted  with  low  scrubby  trees  — 
some  from  behind  a  level  plateau  a  little  further  from  the 
river,  and  looking  down  no  doubt  on  cultivated  farms  and 
a  few  handsome  dwellings,  too  much  elevated  above  the 
river,  however,  to  be  distinctly  seen  from  thence.  The 
moon's  full  face  was  just  peeping  over  a  ridge  of  moun 
tains  in  the  east,  and  as  her  fairy  beams  fell  upon  the  op 
posite  shore  and  rugged  mountain-.side,  all  manner  of  fan 
tastic  edifices,  and  deep  caverns  and  outlandish  forms  of 
men  or  beasts  at  once  lay  pictured  to  view.  Occasionally 
a  white  gleam  would  come  back  from  the  landscape  and 
mark  the  position  of  some  secluded  mansion  on  the 
patches  of  mist  that  were  gathering  on  lower  spots  with 
in  and  beneath  the  mountains  —  a  white  mantle  in  the 
fairy  moonbeams.  The  whippowils  were  wide  awake 
too,  and  their  ringing  notes,  in  answer  to  each  other,  were 
the  only  sounds  to  break  the  silence,  except  that  of  some 
small  cascade  tumbling  along  from  its  hidden  recess  into 
the  river. 

Most  of  the  passengers  had  crept  into  their  berths,  and 
among  them  Mr.  Blanchard ;  he  was  discouraged  when 
the  wind  died  out,  and  went  below  bestowing  himself 
just  as  he  was,  partly  on  two  chairs,  and  partly  on  his 
pillow  and  mattrass,  which  he  had  hauled  to  the  edge  of 
the  berth.  He  complained  of  the  heat  —  he  feared  the 
bugs  too,  which  he  said  were  always  on  board  of  sloops, 
although  the  Polly  was  never  known  to  carry  any  such 
passengers  —  but  he  wished  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 

Mr.  Sandford  and  young  Roland  had  taken  a  seat  to 
gether  near  the  bow  of  the  vessel,  and  were  much  engag 
ed  in  conversation  on  topics  of  deep  interest,  especially 
to  the  latter,  but  we  cannot  attend  to  them  just  now ;  our 
business  is  more  particularly  with  two  lady  passengers 
who,  wrapped  in  their  shawls  and  seated  amid-ship  had 


152  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

been  enjoying  the  beauties  of  the  strange  scenery  around 
them.  They  are  now  engaged  in  conversation,  and  al 
though  the  tone  of  their  voice  is  low,  yet  the  subject 
seems  to  be  of  much  interest  to  them  both,  for  the  elder 
lady  has  taken  the  hand  of  the  younger,  and  is  holding  it 
on  her  lap,  and  while  the  rather  sad  countenance  of  the 
latter  betrays  perhaps  more  feeling  than  she  could  wish  to 
express,  even  before  a  friend  with  whom  she  was  quite  in 
timate.  As  the  conversation  is  of  some  consequence  in 
the  unfolding  of  our  story,  there  can  be  no  harjn  in  our 
listening  to  it. 

"  Why  is  it,  dear  Eva,  that  you  have  never  happened 
to  mention  the  name  of  Mr.  Herbert  to  me  before  ?  " 

"Why  should  I,  Mrs.  Sandford?  " 

"  Only  because  I  perceived  that  both  he  and  you  mani 
fested  a  good  deal  of  feeling  when  you  first  recognized 
each  other.    You  certainly  was  deeply  affected,  and  he 
evidently  had  his  mind  intent  on  you  all  the  time  on  our 
excursion  to  the  shore." 

"  Why  was  it  that  he  scarcely  addressed  me  all  the 
way?" 

"  There  may  have  been  a  reason  for  that ;  perhaps  if 
you  two  had  been  alone,  he  would  not  have  been  so  si 
lent." 

"My  feelings  were  no  doubt  excited,  Mrs.  Sandford,  for 
a  sight  of  him  brought  at  once  to  my  mind  some  of  the 
happiest  days  of  my  life  —  my  own  dear  home  and  my 
loving  parents." 

"  Why,  was  he  ever  a  member  of  your  father's  family  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  for  some  years,  he  was  a  clerk  in  my  father's 
store  and  lived  with  us.  I  was  but  a  little  girl  when  he 
first  came,  and  he  a  boy  of  perhaps  fifteen.  I  ha'd  no 
brothers  nor  eisters,  and  of  course  you  know,  it  was  very 
natural  for  two  thus  associating  every  day  to  become  in 
timate,  and  my  parents  never  making  any  objections  to 
his  waiting  upon  me,  etc.,  why  of  course  we  were  as  much 
together  as  a  brother  and  sister  might  have  been." 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  his  family ;  did  they  live  in 
the  city?" 

"  Oh,  no,  they  lived  in  the  country." 

"  Did  his  parents  never  visit  him  ?  " 


LOOKING  AROUND.  153 

"  His  father  did  once  or  twice.  He  was  a  very  fine 
looking  man,  and  appeared  to  think  a  great  deal  of — 
Will  —  of  his  son.  He  had  a  step-mother,  a  very  pecu 
liar  woman,  and  that  was  the  reason  why  he  never  visited 
his  home  ;  and  it  was  only  during  the  last  year  that  he 
was  with  us,  that  I  ever  heard  him  speak  of  his  sisters." 

"  That  is  strange  !  He  seems  now  to  be  very  fond  of 
them." 

"  They  are  not  full  sisters,  his  own  mother  died  when 
he  was  quite  young.  Yes,  he  does  seem  very  fond  of 
them,  and  they  of  him." 

"  Did  he  live  with  you  until  the  death  of  your  father  ? ' 

"  Yes,  and  I  have  no  doubt  if  my  father  had  lived,  he 
would  have  been  taken  as  a  paitner;  for  I  have  often 
heard  my  father  express  his  great  confidence  in  him.  I 
heard  him  once  say  that  if  he  should  die,  there  was  no  one 
he  would  so  soon  entrust  the  settlement  of  all  his  busi 
ness  with,  as  to  Mr.  Herbert,  and  I  know  mother  was  quite 
surprised  to  find  when  father's  will  was  read,  that  William 
was  not  one  of  the  executors." 

"  How  did  it  happen  that  Mr.  Blanchard  should  have 
had  every  thing  entrusted  to  his  care,  and  you  put  under 
his  guardianship  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  it  was  on  account  of  the  great  intimacy  be 
tween  Aunt  Blanchard  —  as  I. always  called  her  —  and 
my  mother  and  father ;  you  know,  she  when  a  child  had 
been  adopted  by  them.  I  was  not  born  until  they  had 
been  married  twenty  years.  Mr.  Blanchard  married  her, 
and  the  families  were  always  very  intimate." 

"I  suppose  young  Herbert  left  then,  at  your  father's 
death?" 

"  Yes,  soon  after,  and  in  a  strange  manner.  He  very 
soon  procured  another  situation,  for  he  understood  busi 
ness  thoroughly.  He  remained  but  a  few  days  at  our 
house,  although  we  expected  him  to  make  it  his  home. 
My* mother  was  anxious  that  he  should  do  so,  as  we  were 
alone,  and  he  had  been  there  so  long,  and  had  even  taken 
charge  of  many  things  in  the  family,  purchasing  supplies 
etc.,  just  as  if  he  had  been  a  son  and  a  brother.  But  all 
at  once  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  us.  I  did  not  know 
the  cause  nor  did  my  mother;  we  only  surmised  that 
7» 


154  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

some  difficulty  had  arisen  between  him  and  Mr.  Blanchard, 
but  he  made  no  explanations.  All  he  said,  was,  '  that  if 
ever  he  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  my  mother  in  any 
way,  he  would  be  ready  to  render  it  to  the  utmost  of  his 
power.'  I  have  always  thought  he  might  have  given  to  my 
mother  some  reason  for  his  strange  conduct." 

"  Perhaps  he  could  not  do  so  without  implicating  Mr. 
Blanchard,  and  it  is  possible  something  may  have  been 
said  to  him  by  that  gentleman,  by  which  his  feelings  were 
wounded ;  he  seems  to  me  to  have  fine  sensibilities." 

"  He  is  very  sensitive,  I  know.  He  has  a  spirit  of  in 
dependence  that  borders  on  pride.  He  could  very  easily 
be  aroused  if  that  were  touched,  but  then,  what  had  we 
done !  He  had  been  treated  with  great  familiarity  and 
kindness." 

"  Did  he  never  call  at  your  house  after  he  left  ?  " 

"  He  called  during  my  mother's  illness —  she  died  soon 
after  my  father.  I  did  not  see  him,  for  I  did  not  know 
that  he  had  called  —  it  has  been  a  strange  thing  altogeth 
er.  I  feel  very  sure  he  thought  a  great  deal  of  my  father 
and  my  mother,  too." 

"  And  of  you,  too,  dear  Eva,  and  I  feel  very  sure  he 
does  now." 

"Why  then  should  he  never  have  called  upon  me  after 
my  mother's  death  ?  He  knew  I  was  alone  in  the  world 
—  he  knew  with  what  confidence  I  had  always  treated 
him,  reposing  on  his  care,  and  taking  his  advice  about  all 
matters,  and  consulting  with  him  just  as  a  sister  with  a 
brother." 

It  was  with  difficulty  the  closing  sentence  came  from  the 
trembling  lips  of  the  young  lady.  The  thoughts  which 
had  come  from  the  past,  brought  with  them  scenes  that 
had  taken  hold  of  the  deep  fountains  of  her  heart.  She 
could  not  quite  brace  herself  against  them.  Pride  Avould 
have  forbidden  that  a  tear  should  fall  at  the  remembrance 
of  what  William  Herbert  had  once  been  to  her,  but  she 
was  sitting  beside  one  whose  heart  was  as  sensitive  as  her 
own,  a  few  years  her  elder,  but  still  fresh  with  all  a  wo 
man's  sympathies,  and  who  could  understand  how  the  heart 
might  be  interested  and  inwardly  bleed,  while  propriety 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  155 

would   demand   an   unruffled   exterior.      Mrs.  Sandford 
pressed  the  hand  of  her  young  friend. 

"Dear  Eva,  don't  be  troubled.  I  feel  assured  there 
will  yet  be  an  explanation.  That  young  man's  very  coun 
tenance  expresses  honor  and  truthfulness ;  he  is  not  one  to 
trifle  with  friendship,  or  be  indifferent  to  its  sacred  de 
mands.  You  will  be  thrown  together  now,  no  doubt,  for 
his  sisters  are  to  reside  in  Woodburn.  They  are,  it  ap 
pears,  under  the  care  of  the  minister  of.  the  parish.  You 
will  have  an  opportunity  for  frequent  interviews." 

"  I  shall  never  seek  an  interview,  Mrs.  Sandford." 

"But  you  would  grant  one,  if  asked  for." 

"  Circumstances  must  decide  whether  I  should  or  not." 

Just  then  Mr.  Sandford  came  up  to  them,  having  left 
the  young  gentleman  with  whom  he  had  been  engaged  in 
conversation. 

"  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,  which  you  are 
at  liberty  to  accept  or  not,  just  as  you  please." 

"  I  can  have  no  possible  objections  to  hear  it,  then,  since 
the  conditions  are  so  reasonable,  only  I  hope  it  is  not  that 
we  leave  this  lovely  scene  for  the  confinement  of  the  cab 
in,  in  that  case  I  fear  I  should  be  tempted  to  take  advan 
tage  of  the  privilege  you  have  annexed." 

"  Not  exactly  that,  but  if  you  accede  to  the  plan  pro 
posed,  it  may  be  advisable  to  retire  soon,  for  you  may  be 
obliged  to  make  an  early  start." 

"Do,  papa,  let  me  hear  it.  I  cannot  conceive  what  it 
can  be  ;  there  will  certainly  be  no  need,  from  present  ap 
pearances,  for  very  early  rising,  without  it  be  to  witness 
the  breaking  of  day  among  these  mountains.  That  in 
deed  may  be  worth  a  little  sacrifice." 

"  You  will  probably  have  an  opportunity  to  witness  it. 
The  tide  will  turn  about  twelve  o'clock,  which,  with  a 
light  breeze,  even  very  light,  will  enable  us  to  make  a  lit 
tle  headway.  About  ten  miles  from  where  we  now  lay, 
is  a  private  landing ;  it  belongs  to  this  young  gentleman, 
with  whom  I  have  been  conversing,  and  whose  house  is 
just  above  it.  From  thence  to  our  farm  is  only  three 
miles,  or  rather  he  says  two  and  a  half,  whereas,  from  the 
proper  landing  of  the  sloop,  will  be  all  of  eight  miles. 
Now,  his  proposition  is,  that  I  and  my  family  land  with 


156  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

him,  and  he  will  send  us  immediately  on  our  way.  He 
has  horses  which  he  says  it  will  be  a  favor  for  him  to  have 
used." 

"  But  our  trunks  and  some  furniture !  Why,  dear  hus 
band,  think  what  a  load !  you  and  I  and  the  two  children, 
the  nurse  and  Betty ! " 

"  The  trunks  and  furniture  can  go  on  with  the  sloop  — 
I  can  send  for  them." 

"  Well,  I  am  sure  I  can  have  no  objections ;  it  is  cer 
tainly  very  kind  in  him." 

"  Then  it  is  a  bargain  —  shall  I  tell  him  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  present  my  acknowledgements  for  his  gener 
ous  offer.  Only  two  and  a  half  miles  !  then,  dear  hus 
band,  he  will  be  quite  a  neighbor  of  ours." 

"  Yes,  and  I  think  a  pleasant  one,  too." 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  Well,  this  has  been  a  day  marked  with  peculiar  events 
for  us  all.  Little  did  we  think  when  we  started  on  our 
sail  of  pleasure,  this  morning,  that  the  aspect  of  the  sky 
could  change  so  suddenly.  We  were  in  great  danger, 
greater  than  I  have  ever  thought  myself  to  be  on  the 
ocean."  ' 

"  But  now,  William,  I  want  to  talk  with  you  about  Miss 
Stanley.  We  are  alone,  and  I  can  talk  >freely.  She  is 
very  beautiful !  do  you  not  think  so  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  but  she  is." 

"  You  know  she  is,  and  that  you  think  so,  too,  and  that 
you  —  " 

"  Please  stop,  dear  sister ;  do  not  let  us  bring  up  this 
subject  again.  You  have  known  some  of  my  feelings  in 
days  past,  but  you  have  never  known  the  agony  I  have 
suffered.  Thank  God,  I  have  risen  above  it  at  last." 

"  Willie,  Willie,  dear  William  !  "  and  she  clasped  with 
both  hands  the  arm  on  which  she  was  leaning.  "  Do  not 
deceive  yourself,  or  try  to ;  you  cannot  deceive  me,  how- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  157 

ever,  I  know  you  too  well.  You  love  Eva  Stanley,  and 
there  is  no  use  in  trying  to  hide  your  feelings  from  me." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  conceal  any  thing  from  you,  Mary, 
but  T  tell  you  truly,  that  whatever  feeling  I  have  had  for 
her,  I  have  crushed  out." 

The  lively  girl  who  was  hanging  on  his  arm  looked  him 
full  in  the  face,  and  then  broke  out  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Crushed  it  out !  Oh  Willie,  do  not  tell  me  that.  I 
have  never  been  in  love,  you  know,  but  I  can  give  a  good 
guess  what  the  feeling  is  ;  it  cannot  be  crushed  out.  It 
may  be  smothered  a  little  —  its  strong  yearnings  may  be 
stifled  somewhat  by  earnest  engagements,  when  busy 
among  your  hides  in  Rio,  and  jabbering  away  with  Span 
ish  Gauchas,  you  no  doubt  forget  all  about  Eva,  and  Mary, 
and  Julia,  and  every  one  else  that  you  love,  or  loves  you ; 
but  when  you  are  alone,  and  your  mind  has  time  to  rest  a 
little,  I  know  —  you  need  not  tell  me  —  swift  as  thought 
can  fly,  it  skims  the  ocean  and  is  here  among  us,  and  then 
all  those  pleasant  times  you  used  to  enjoy  at  Eva's  home, 
and  the  pleasant  walks  you  took  with  her  by  your  side, 
and  her  arm  entwined  with  yours,  and  her  face  turned  up 
to  yours  in  all  the  confidence  of  a  sister,  and  her  musical 
voice,  and  her  merry  laugh,  and  her  grace  of  motion  and 
of  form,  and  her  beauty  and  her  guileless  ways  —  all  come 
before  you,  and  you  sit  and  think  and  nourish  the  dear 
vision,  and  you  are  helpless  — now  is  not  that  so  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mary,  you  are  a  most  inveterate  talker ;  it  would 
completely  exhaust  me  to  go  through  such  a  long  speech." 

"It  does  not  tire  me  in  the  least,  dear.  I  can  just  as 
well  as  not,  go  straight  through  another  one,  only  I  wish 
to  hear  something  from  you.  I  want  you  for  once,  dear 
William,  to  let  out  the  budget  that  you  have  so  long  kept 
to  yourself,  and  especially  now  as  you  are  so  soon  to  leave 
us  —  to  come  back  nobody  knows  when  —  can't  you  trust 
me  ? "  and  again  her  countenance  beaming  with  sisterly 
interest,  was  turned  full  upon  him. 

"  Well,  Mary,  if  I  must  talk,  let  us  take  a  seat  on  this 
rock ;  the  fact  is,  I  am  not  so  strong  as  I  once  was,  or  I 
am  getting  old  and  lazy." 

"  It  is  age,  my  dear ;  only  to  think  how  time  steals 
along  —  already  you  have  seen  twenty-four  summers  and 


158  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

twenty -three  winters  —  it  is  a  long  time  to  live,  dear,  but 
come,  sit  down  ;  what  are  you  looking  at  ?  " 

"  The  beauties  of  nature.  Can  there  be  anything  more 
lovely  than  the  river  from  this  spot — those  heaps  of 
mountains  — those  green  fields  —  that  long  stretch  of  bare 
wall  fringed  with  cedars  —  that  glassy  bay  lying  as  smooth 
as  if  its  waters  had  not  been  disturbed  for  a  month." 

"They  looked  disturbed  and  angry  enough  to-day. 
Water  is  pretty,  but  it  is  very  deceitful ;  the  least  thing 
stirs  it  up,  and  the  least  change  in  clouds  alters  its  face ; 
it  is  wonderful,  though,  how  very  smiling  it  is  now,  and 
how  complacently  it  receives  the  slanting  sunbeams,  and 
reflects  the  rugged  hills  and  the  boats  at  anchor  on  its 
bosom,  but  the  sun  is  going  down,  and  the  dew  will  soon 
be  on  the  grass ;  every  moment  now  is  precious,  so  come, 
take  your  seat,  and  like  a  good  boy,  for  once,  do  the  right 
thing,  and  make  me  your  confidant." 

"  I  always  have  "  —  taking  his  seat  beside  her  —  "  have 
I  not?" 

"  Oh,  well,  in  a  certain  way.  You  have  told  me  about 
many  things,  but  what  I  wish  to  know  now,  is,  how  you 
feel  about  Eva  since  you  have  seen  more  of  the  world. 
That  you  should  have  been  captivated  when  so  much  in 
her  society,  and  before  you  had  an  opportunity  to  mingle 
with  other  ladies  and  before  your  mind  had  become  some 
what  matured,  was  very  natural  —  the  question  is  —  how 
do  you  feel,  now  ?" 

"  I  have  told  you  —  I  have  crushed  it  out." 
"  It  looked  like  it,  when  you  met  her  to-day.     I  think 
the  crushing  operation  must  have  been  going  on  then,  for 
you  turned  as  red  as  a  purple  rose,  and  then  as  pale  as  if 
life  was  going  from  you." 

"  I  was  enraged  at  meeting  that  Blanchard,  knowing 
that  poor  guileless  girl  was  subject  to  his  control.  I  will 
tell  you  what  I  have  lately  heard.  For  a  while  it  was 
said  that  both  he  and  his  wife  tried  their  best  to  form  a 
union  between  Eva  and  their  son  George,  but  she  had  too 
much  sense  to  be  pleased  with  such  a  mere  dandy,  but 
now  that  his  wife  is  dead,  it  is  believed  he  is  trying  to  court 
her  himself." 

"  I  cannot  believe  it.     People,  at  least  some,  are  always 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  159 

showing  out  their  suspicious  natures  by  surmising  evil  of 
others.  Why,  his  wife  was  her  own  aunt,  was  she  not  ?  " 

"By  no  means.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  lady  who 
married  for  her  second  husband  Albert  Stanley,  the  broth 
er  of  Robert  Stanley,  Eva's  father.  Albert  Stanley  and 
his  wife  dying,  this  lady  was  adopted  by  Robert  Stanley, 
as  he  had  no  children.  Eva  was  not  born  until  her  fath 
er  and  mother  had  been  married  fifteen  or  twenty  years." 

"  That  accounts  for  her  being  made  such  a  pet  of  as  you 
have  said  she  was." 

"  Robert  Stanley  and  his  wife  wrere  much  attached  to 
this  young  lady.  Her  name  was  Maynard.  Blanchard 
married  her,  and  the  two  families  were  always  very  inti 
mate,  and  no  doubt  the  reason  why  Robert  Stanley  ap 
pointed  Blanchard  guardian  of  his  daughter  was,  that  he 
believed  Blanchard's  wife  would  be  a  true  mother  to  Eva." 

"  Was  she  not  ?  " 

"  She  was  a  woman  of  no  sensibility,  a  very  common 
place  sort  of  person  —  never  loved  any  one  very  much  — 
her  children  excepted.  I  think  it  likely  she  was  never  un 
kind  to  Eva,  but  what  little  love  she  was  able  to  give  was 
bestowed,  from  what  I  hear,  upon  her  own  flesh  and 
blood." 

"It  nwst  have  been  a  great  change  for  that  dear  girl 
from  such  a  home  and  such  attention  and  love  as  she  once 
had.  But  you  do  not  suppose  for  a  moment,  that  Eva 
could  be  induced  to  throw  herself  away  upon  such  a  per 
son  as  Blanchard, —  old  enough  to  be  her  father  !" 

"  I  cannot  tell,  he  is  a  very  strange  man.  He  can  be 
very  complaisant  and  insinuating  when  he  has  an  end  to 
gain  —  and  that  he  has  a  very  important  end  in  view  in 
trying  to  get  her,  I  know  —  and  to  my  cost,  I  know  he 
can  be  very  rough  and  tyrannical  when  it  pleases  him  to 
be  so." 

"  You  have  never  told  me  the  particulars  of  his  treat 
ment  at  the  time  you  left,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  ask  you." 

"  His  treatment  was  shameful,  and  I  have  no  doubt  he 
has  since  been  much  ashamed  of  it.  He  knew  that  I  was 
dependent  upon  my  salary — that  I  also  knew  all  about 
the  business,  and  had  for  some  time  carried  it  on  almost 
without  the  aid  of  Mr.  Stanley  —  and  he  also  knew  that 


160  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

with  a  very  little  aid  afforded  me  by  not  withdrawing  the 
whole  of  Mr.  Stanley's  funds,  I  might  have  gone  on  with 
the  business.  It  would  have  been  no  damage  to  Mr.  Stan 
ley's  estate,  and  Mr.  Stanley  expi-essed  to  me  his  wish  that 
thus  it  should  be ;  and  I  supposed  that  some  arrangement 
had  been  made  in  the  will  to  that  effect,  but  it  proved 
otherwise,  no  doubt  through  Blanchard's  influence,  for  he 
was  quite  insulting  in  his  remarks  when  I  made  the  prop 
osition,  and  went  on  to  say  that  —  but  no  matter,  I  do  not 
wish  to  say  any  more." 

"  Dear  William,  my  dearest  brother,  tell  me  all.  '  I  wish 
to  know  every  pang  that  has  pierced  your  heart." 

"I  dislike  to  recall  the  scene,  much  less  can  I  bear  to 
speak  of  it,  but  you  shall  have  it.  After  expressing  in 
rather  strong  language  his  surprise  that  I  should  have  the 
temerity  to  make  the  request,  he  added,  '  I  think  further, 
that  your  hanging  around  the  family  of  Mrs.  Stanley  since 
the  death  of  Mr.  Stanley,  is,  to  say  the  least,  very  strange. 
Delicacy  ought  to  have  shown  you  its  impropriety,  espec 
ially,  as  Mrs.  Stanley  herself  is  now  confined  to  her  bed. 
It  must  on  many  accounts,  be  very  unpleasant  to  the  fam 
ily.'" 

"  What  did  you  reply." 

"  My  dear  sister,  what  could  I  say  ?  My  heart  was  full, 
and  I  feared  if  I  attempted  to  speak,  my  feelings  would 
get  the  upper  hand,  and  I  did  not  care  to  let  him  see  how 
much  his  injustice  had  caused  me  to  suffer.  I  merely 
made  out  my  account  of  salary  due  me  at  that  date  ;  he 
at  once  paid  it,  and  I  left  the  premises." 

Mary  Herbert  was  looking  full  in  the  face  of  her  broth 
er.  She  was  much  excited.  She  well  knew  how  keenly 
sensitive  he  was  —  how  pure  and  noble  was  every  thought 
—  that  Tie  should  have  been  treated  thus  —  that  he  should 
have  suffered  silently  under  such  barbarous  treatment,  at 
a  time  too,  when  he  had  no  worldly  protector,  and  was 
left  to  feel  that  all  his  past  faithful  services  was  to  go  for 
nothing!  Her  emotion  could  not  be  restrained,  and  lean 
ing  on  his  shoulder,  she  gave  full  vent  to  her  tears.  For 
some  time  they  sat  in  silence,  the  brother  thinking  of  the 
past,  only  with  gratitude  for  that  kind  Providence  which 
had,  in  the  hour  of  his  extremity,  opened  a  way  for  him, 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  161 

in  which  his  energies  might  be  exerted.  Wonderfully  had 
he  been  dealt  with  !  He  is  now  in  a  condition  of  compar 
ative  independence.  He  is  a  partner  in  a  lucrative  busi 
ness,  and  although  for  some  years  yet,  must  suffer  a  sepa 
ration  from  those  he  loves,  for  the  active  and  responsible 
duties  of  his  station  in  a  foreign  land,  yet  what  is  that, 
when  from  it  comes  his  present  independence,  and  a  fu 
ture  home  in  which  he  hopes  to  cluster  these  jewels  of  his 
heart. 

u  Dear,  dear  William,  oh  that  I  could  have  suffered  for 
you ! " 

"  The  suffering  is  all  past  now,  dear.  Let  us  think  of 
it,  only  to  stir  our  hearts  with  gratitude,  and  to  inspire 
them  with  hope  and  trust." 

"  But  that  man  —  contemptible,  cruel  man !  I  wonder 
when  you  met  him  on  board  that  sloop  to-day,  you  did 
not  say  or  do  something  to  let  him  know  how  much  you 
despise  him." 

"  I  presume  he  has  a  just  idea  of  the  opinion  I  have  of 
him,  and  I  rather  think  my  presence  under  the  circum 
stances,  was  punishment  enough.  The  manner  in  which 
Eva  met  me — the  deep  emotion  she  manifested  — <  must 
have  been  torture  indeed,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  the  re 
port  I  mentioned." 

"And  the  feeling  she  manifested  on  seeing  you!  " 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  Mary,  do  not  deceive  yourself ;  that  emo 
tion  had  nothing  to  do  with  me,  except  as  the  sight  of  me 
brought  back  the  scenes  of  the  past." 

"  And  you,  dear  William,  are  connected  with  that  past, 
vely  upon  what  I  say." 

"  I  feel  that  this  has  been  an  unfortunate  day  foi\me." 

"  Willie,  you  must  not  say  so.  It  seems  more  to  me 
like  a  day  of  peculiar  providences  —  our  deliverance  from 
danger,  and  your  meeting  with  Eva  —  take  it  all  togeth 
er,  it  has  been  a  star  day,  one  from  which  some  very  im 
portant,  and  perhaps  strange  results  may  follow." 

"Mary,  your  romantic  mind,  I  see,  tinges  the  incidents 
of  life  with  a  halo  that  may  be  very  agreeable  to  you,  and 
perhaps  may  do  you  no  material  harm,  but  I  cannot  see  in 
them  what  you  see.  Now  that  meeting  with  Eva,  makes 
me  rather  sad  than  otherwise.  It  has  recalled  so  many 


162  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

happy  scenes  now  past  forever,  and  with  the  happy  ones, 
some,  that  I  have  tried  entirely  to  forget ;  it  has  been  like 
a  fresh  injury  to  a  wound  nearly  healed." 

"  Say,  rather,  dear  William,  that  it  has  been  the  renew 
al  of  feelings  in  the  minds  of  two  beings  most  intensely  in 
terested  in  each  other,  but  which  outward  circumstances 
had  for  a  long  time  kept  apart,  but  a  single  glance  of  the 
eye,  a  single  clasp  of  the  hand,  has  taught  them  that  the 
will  is  powerless  against  the  heart." 

"  You  are  very  sanguine,  Mary,  and  I  have  no  doubt  you 
are  in  earnest  in  what  you  say.  You  love  me,  I  know,  and 
you  of  course  think  that  one  who  has  seen  so  much  of  me 
as  Eva  has,  must  certainly  love  me  too ;  and  perhaps  I 
have  been  vain  enough  in  days  past  to  indulge  such  a 
hope,  but  keep  in  mind,  that  in  all  my  intercourse  with 
her,  I  was  very  careful  to  say  or  do  nothing  that  should 
give  her  the  least  intimation  how  I  felt  towards  her  —  that 
is,  as  a  lover.  I  was  of  course  ready  to  meet  her  re 
quests  with  pleasure,  but  never  forward  in  my  attentions." 

"  And  do  you  not  know  that  such  a  course  was  much 
more  likely  to  win  such  a  heart,  than  if  you  had  been  very 
obsequious  —  ready  to  spring  the  moment  her  thimble  or 
her  scissors  happened  to  fall  on  the  floor  —  watching  eve 
ry  look,  and  trying  to  say  agreeable  things,  like  George 
Blanchard,  as  you  have  described  him  to  me,  with  his 
hands  delicately  cased  in  gloves,  and  his  chin  fastened  as 
in  a  vice  between  two  stiff  collars,  and  his  feet  dressed 
like  a  dancing  master,  afraid  of  doing  this,  and  afraid  of 
saying  that,  lest  it  might  not  be  altogether  proper  or  pleas 
ing.  Women,  nor  girls,  like  your  '  nice  '  young  men  ;  they 
want  io  see  character,  independence  of  thought  and  ac 
tion.  They  want  something  to  look  up  to,  to  lean  upon, 
and  not  a  butterfly  fluttering  around  them  and  showing 
its  gaudy  wings  —  but  here  comes  Julia." 

"  Oh,  you  good-for-nothings,  you  have  put  me  all  out  of 
breath  hunting  for  you." 

"  What's  the  trouble  now,  sis,"  as  he  arose  from  his  seat 
and  took  the  hand  of  the  panting  girl. 

"  The  matter  is,  that  we  have  been  '  come  for.' " 

"Come  for?" 

"Yes,  the  young  man  with  whose  family  we  are  to 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  163 

board,  says  that  he  expects  to  be  busy  to-morrow,  and  he 
thought  it  might  possibly  make  no  difference  to  us  if  he 
came  this  evening.  It  will  be  moonlight,  he  says,  and  it 
is  only  two  hours'  drive.  What  a  fine  looking  young  man 
he  is,  Bub  ;  quite  a  gentleman  in  manners,  too  —  is  he  a 
fanner  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Julia,  he  is  a  farmer,  and  they  tell  me  he  is  a  hard 
worker,  too.  He  is  a  noble-hearted,  manly  fellow.  Mr. 
Ransom  gave  me  quite  a  history  of  him.  I  cannot  tell  it 
now,  but  he  takes  ypu  two  girls  to  board,  because  he  has 
lost  a  large  sum  of  money,  for  Mm,  through  means  of  a 
brother.  The  brother  has  failed,  and  more  than  two  thou 
sand  dollars  of  the  responsibilities  he  has  taken  upon  him 
self.  He  kept  up  a  good  heart,  however,  and  has  taken  the 
whole  family  home.  He  says  so  long  as  the  old  home 
stead  stands,  and  he  has  hands  to  work,  it  shall  be  a  ref 
uge  for  all  those  who  sat  together  with  him  on  the  same 
knee,  and  were  born  under  the  same  roof.  You  will  have 
plenty  of  company,  therefore,  but  the  house  is  large  enough 
to  hold  a  small  colony." 

This  was  said  while  they  were  walking  towards  their 
place  of  residence.  Each  sister  clung  to  an  arm.  They 
were  about  to  separate ;  the  parting  was  to  have  taken 
place  in  the  morning,  and  the  elder  sister,  Mary,  was  ex 
pressing  regrets  that  they  should  have  been  sent  for  so 
many  hours  before  the  time.  She  was  interrupted  by  the 
brother. 

"  A  few  hours,  Mary,  more  or  less,  can  make  no  material 
difference,  and  I  wish  there  may  be  no  such  scene  as 
marked  our  first  separation.  We  love  one  another,  and 
enjoy  each  other's  society,  but  we  cannot  always  be  to 
gether.  Let  us  be  thankful  that  I  have  work  to  do.  Let 
there  be  no  tears  then,  but  with  a  smile  and  a  kiss,  let  us 
say  good-bye.  We  shall  have  in  our  hearts  the  conscious 
ness  of  mutual  affection,  and  the  hope  of  meeting  again 
in  a  few  years.  In  the  meantime,  letters  can  be  passing 
with  every  ship  that  is  bound  for  Rio,  or  from  Rio  to  New 
York  or  Boston." 

"  Williamv  you  are  strangely  platonic,  this  evening.  I 
do  not  know  what  to  think  of  you ;  if  I  did  not  know  to 
the  contrary,  I  should  conclude  your  heart  has  become 
callous." 


164  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

"  I  have  felt  the  necessity  for  hardening  it." 

"  Against  us ! "  and  his  younger  sister  looked  him  full  in 
the  face. 

"  No,  dear  sister,  not  against  you  or  any  other  friends, 
but  against  circumstances." 

"And  by-and-bye  your  indifference  to  circumstances 
will  lead  to  a  hardening  process  against  friends,  until  it 
may  be  you  will,  to  use  your  own  expressive  language,  be 
able  to  '  crush  them  out  of  your  heart  altogether  '  " 

. "  Do,  dear,  me !  I  never  heard  such  riddles  as  you, 
Mary  and  William  are  reading  me.  I  do  not  understand  a 
word  you  say,  nor  what  either  of  you  can  find  to  smile  at. 
For  my  part,  I  feel  more  like  crying,  and  I  shall  cry,  I 
know  I  shall.  What  a  ridiculous  idea !  Here  you,  Wil 
liam,  are  to  be  gone  from  us,  there  is  no  telling  how  many 
years,  over  the  ocean,  too,  ever  so  far;  and  we  two  girls 
left  all  alone — ^no  relations,  but  those  who  never  have  a 
thought  for  us ;  and  we  among  perfect  strangers,  and  ye  t 
with  a  shake  of  the  hand,  a  smile  and  a  kiss  —  a  very  gen 
tle  one  I  suppose  —  we  are  to  part !  " 

"  And  he  has  not  told  us  either,  Julia,  which  was  to  be 
first,  the  smile  or  the  kiss." 

Without  noticing  the  remark  of  the  elder  sister,  the 
brother  asked : 

"  What  sort  of  a  conveyance  has  the  young  gentle 
man  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  very  nice  one  indeed  ;  a  neat  wagon  with  two 
seats,  and  a  splendid  pair  of  horses ;  no  top,  however." 

"  If  I  knew  that  I  could  conveniently  get  on  board  the 
steamboat  to-morrow  evening,  I  should  be  tempted  to  go 
up  there  with  you,  and  trouble  you  another  day  with  my 
company." 

"Oh,  do,  do,  dear  William,"  exclaimed  both  sisters  at 
once,  "  we  shall  be  so  happy !  We  shall  then  have  one 
good,  whole,  quiet  day  with  you ;  this  has  been  so  confus 
ed  and  broken  up." 

It  was  not  far  they  had  to  walk,  and  the  young  man 
who  was  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  house,  as  they  drew 
near,  advanced  to  meet  them. 

^  Herbert  relinquished  the  arms  of  his  sisters,  and  gave 
his  hand  to  the  young  man,  at  the  same  time  introducing 
his  sisters  to  their  future  host. 


LOOKIXG  *  ABOUND.  165 

The  young  man  made  his  obeisance  with  an  ease  of 
manner  that  took  the  ladies  by  surprise  — at  least,  the  el 
der  of  the  two,  who  had  not  seen  him.  His  appearance 
was  as  unexpected  as  his  deportment.  There  was  noth 
ing  of  the  rough  farmer  about  him.  He  was  of  good  size, 
well  formed,  a  good  countenance,  with  a  thoughtful  cast, 
but  when  lighted  with  a  smile,  almost  brilliant  —  his  dress, 
that  which  any  gentleman  might  with  propriety  wear  in 
the  country :  nothing  new  or  fashionable,  or  stiff,  well  fit 
ted  to  his  person  and  adapted  to  the  profession  he  follow 
ed  —  not  too  fine  to  fear  contact  with  whatever  he  wished 
to  handle,  nor  so  coarse  as  to  be  unsightly. 

"  I  have  three  questions  to  put  to  you,  Mr.  Bradford, 
the  answers  to  which  may  vary  my  plans  a  little  for  the 
next  twenty-four  hours.  The  first  is  : 

"  Is  there  any  way  by  which  from  your  house,  I  can  get 
on  board  the  steamboat  from  Albany  to-morrow  eve 
ning?" 

"  There  is  a  lauding,  sir,  not  far  from  my  house  ;  it  be 
longs  to  Mr  Roland,  but  is  generally  used  by  all  in  our 
vicinity.  By  holding  up  a  light,  the  steamboat  sends  out 
a  boat." 

"  Can  you  accommodate  me  with  lodgings  to-night,  with 
out  inconvenience  ?  " 

"  Not  only,  sir,  without  inconvenience,  but  with  a  great 
deal  of  pleasure." 

"  Have  you  a  seat  for  me  in  your  wagon  ?  " 

"  The  seat  I  occupy  is  designed  for  two." 

"  Then  that  matter  is  settled.  Now  girls,  for  your  bag 
gage." 

With  joyful  haste  the  sisters  gathered  their  lighter  ar 
ticles,  while  the  two  young  men  lifted  out  the  trunks.  It 
required  but  a  few  moments  to  arrange  all  matters,  settle 
tavern  bills,  etc.,  and  they  were  off. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Roland's  landing  was  a  very  unpretending  place  indeed, 
and  from  the  middle  of  the  river  could  not  be  distinguish 
ed  from  the  rocks  and  bushes  which  lined  the  eastern 
shore.  On  nearing  it,  however,  you  perceive  that  a  slight 
attempt  at  a  dock  has  been  made,  by  fastening  a  piece  of 
heavy  timber  to  a  shelving  rock  that  projects  a  few  feet 
into  the  water.  This  piece  of  timber  is  no  doubt  fasten 
ed  by  clamps  drilled  into  the  rock,  and  with  the  plank  be 
fore  it,  foi'm  an  abutment  convenient  for  a  small  boat  to 
haul  up  to,  or  even  for  a  sloop,  if  necessary.  Planks  are 
laid  lengthwise  from  this  piece  of  timber,  to  which  they 
are  fastened,  and  afford  pleasant  and  sure  footing  for  those 
who  may  have  landed.  To  one  at  but  a  few  roods  from 
it,  it  seems  a  landing  at  the  foot  of  an  inaccessible  steep, 
but  to  those  on  the  dock  a  road  is  visible,  and  by  follow 
ing  it,  one  finds  an  easy,  though  winding  way,  through  a 
valley,  or  more  properly  a  ravine,  and  very  soon  a  level 
spot  is  spread  out,  and  through  clumps  of  noble  trees  and 
a  lawn  well  kept  and  of  a  rich  green  —  if  in  the  summer 
months  —  you  come  very  soon  to  a  red  brick  mansion. 
The  mansion  has  nothing  particularly  noticeable,  in  the 
way  of  architecture.  It  is  large  and  well  proportioned, 
with  a  wing  on  one  side,  a  broad  piazza  fronting  the  river, 
a  back  building  attached  to  the  rear,  and  out  houses  ex 
tending  beyond  that,  and  a  very  large  collection  of  barns 
and  stables.  No  one  could  doubt,  from  the  first  glance, 
that  it  must  be  a  very  large  estate,  whose  products  could 
fill  the  premises  appropriated  for  them. 

This  homestead,  with  the  domain  attached,  was  known 
throughout  that  region,  and  in  fact  by  most  persons  who 
traveled  along  that  beautiful  river,  as  "  the  Roland  place." 
A  large  number  of  acres  of  arable  land,  as  well  as  a  much 
larger  number  of  acres  of  mountain  woods,  were  attached 
to  it.  The  dwelling  could  not  be  seen  except  from  certain 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  167 

positions  on  the  river ;  a  ridge  of  land,  or  more  properly 
of  rock,  thickly  studded  with  cedars,  concealed  the  dwell 
ing  from  any  who  might  be  looking  for  one,  while  imme 
diately  opposite  upon  the  river,  but  views  could  be  had 
by  those  who  knew  its  locality,  from  two  or  three  different 
openings  above  and  below. 

The  house  had  been  built  before  the  Revolution,  and 
its  owner  having  taken  a  decided  stand  in  favor  of  royal 
ty,  the  estate  was  confiscated  and  sold.  Thomas  Roland, 
the  grandfather  of  the  present  occupant,  became  the  pur 
chaser.  He  had  held  a  major's  commission  in  our  army, 
and  had  particularly  distinguished  himself  at  the  battle 
of  White  Plains. 

The  present  inheritor  was,  as  yet,  quite  a  young  man  — 
not  much  over  twenty-five.  He  had  been  through  col 
lege,  but  had  taken  no  profession ;  his  father  dying  soon 
after  he  graduated,  so  much  being  thrown  upon  his  hands, 
his  mind  was  diverted  from  any  calling  but  that  of  manag 
ing  his  farm,  and  attending  to  his  houses  and  lots  in  the 
city. 

A  few  years  before  his  father's  death,  his  mother  had  de 
ceased,  and  an  aunt  of  his,  the  only  sister  of  his  father, 
had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  the  house,  and  with  her 
daughter,  a  young  lady  of  eighteen,  and  young  Roland, 
constituted  now  the  total  of  the  family  proper,  quite  a 
number  of  domestics,  however,  must  be  added,  as  the 
house  was  large,  and  the  same  style  of  living  was  kept  up 
by  the  present  proprietor,  as  formerly. 

The  father  of  Donald  Roland,  the  present  owner,  was 
by  no  means  a  popular  man  among  his  neighbors;  he 
was  in  general  overbearing,  where  he  had  any  power  to  be 
so,  although  there  were  exceptional  cases,  where,  if  his 
fancy  pleased  —  and  it  seemed  to  be  an  impulse  of  fancy 
rather  than  from  kindness  of  heart  —  he  would  be  quite 
liberal.  He  was  a  member  of  the  church,  a  Presbyterian 
of  the  straitest  sort  of  Calvinist ;  a  great  stickler  for  or 
thodoxy,  and  to  all  appearance  possessing  but  little  claim 
besides,  to  the  character  of  a  Christian.  Probably  this 
peculiarity  may  have  had  an  influence  in  molding  the 
views  of  his  son  and  only  child ;  for  when  Donald  came 
to  years  of  discretion,  and  especially  after  the  death  of 


LOOKING   AKOUKD. 

his  father,  he  manifested  an  indifference  to  religion,  very 
seldom  attended  religious  service,  and  whenever  question 
ed  on  the  subject,  gare  such  answers  as  led  to  the  belief 
that  he  had  very  little  faith  in  what  is  called  revelation. 
With  this  exception,  he  was  one  _whom  all  loved.  He 
was  of  a  most  kind  and  obliging  disposition ;  liberal  in  all 
his  dealings,  and  without  any  hauteur  of  manner,  so  nat 
ural  to  one  who  had  large  possessions,  and  many  depend 
ents.  Not  indolent,  nor  without  a  certain  care  over  his 
business  matters,  and  yet  so  unsuspicious  and  ready  to 
credit  the  assertions  of  those  with  whom  he  dealt,  that 
some  did  not  hesitate  to  say,  "  if  Donald  Roland  did  not 
yet  become  a  poor  man,  it  would  be  more  from  good  luck, 
than  careful  management." 

The  very  reverse  of  Donald  in  such  matters,  was  the 
lady,  at  the  head  of  his  establishment.  She  was  a  pru 
dent,  managing  woman,  careful  to  be  sui-e  that  nothing 
was  wasted  in  the  house,  and  so  far  doing  for  the  interest 
of  her  nephew ;  but  beneath  all  her  manifestations  of  care 
for  him,  lay  a  substratum  of  pure,  self-seeking  for  herself 
and  those  belonging  to  her. 

She  had  three  children  —  the  daughter  already  alluded 
to,  and  two  sons  who,  having  been  inmates  with  Donald 
for  some  years,  and  those  at  the  period  of  youth,  may  be 
said  to  have  been  brought  up  with  him.  One  of  these 
sons  was  a  farmer.  He  took  for  a  certain  rental,  to  be 
paid  in  kind,  one  of  the  portions  of  the  estate  which  had 
been  formerly  the  most  productive  for  the  same  number 
of  acres.  The  other  son  did  business  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  was  reputed  to  be  making  money.  He  was  a 
lively,  sociable,  jovial  sort  of  person  —  one  who  would  be 
very  likely  to  inspire  confidence  in  his  integrity,  if  not  iff 
his  capacity  for  business.  There  were  several  old  ser 
vants  about  the  establishment,  who  seemed  as  much  fix 
tures,  as  the  stone  barns  themselves.  They  were  not  now 
in  the  main  very  serviceable,  but  Donald  Roland  would  no 
more  have  thought  of  parting  with  them  than  he  would 
of  pulling  down  the  old  substantial  house  and  putting  up 
a  new  and  fashionable  one ;  in  fact,  he  looked  upon  the 
whole  concern,  in  doors  and  out,  as  fixtures  to  be  used  by 
him  as  long  as  he  should  need  them,  and  then  to  go,  he 


LOOKING   AROUND.  169 

knew  not  to  whom,  nor  does  he  give  a  single  thought 
about  the  matter.  He  is  young,  just  beginning  life,  with 
every  thing  ready  made  to  his  hand,  and  enough  for  all 
reasonable  expenses. 

Young  Roland,  although  surrounded  with  many  advan 
tages  for  the  enjoyment  of  life,  was  not,  after  all,  happy. 
The  beautiful  scenery  which  surrounded  him  he  had  al 
ways  been  accustomed  to  see.  Born  and  brought  up  in 
the  midst  of  it  —  it  had  nothing  new  to  present.  His 
independent  circumstances,'for  the  same,  reason  inspired  no 
gratitude  —  he  had  never  known  any  other  condition. 
The  fact  of  his  being  master  of  his  own  actions,  and  his 
large  income,  made  no  change  in  his  habits.  He  had  no 
taste  for  dissipation  of  any  kind,  nor  was  he  fond  of  soci 
ety.  All  that  called  upon  him  were  cordially  received, 
and  made  welcome  by  a  generous  hospitality.  He  had, 
however,  a  very  strong  attachment  to  his  home,  and  to 
his  home  as  he  had  always  known  it.  Some,  with  his 
means,  would  have  been-  very  likely  to  have  modernized 
the  old  building,  or  have  made  additions ;  but  to  Donald 
the  structure,  with  all  its  surroundings,  were  sacred.  Re 
pairs  were  of  course  occasionally  required ;  they  must 
however  be  homogenous  with  the  old  architecture ;  if 
new  fences  were  needed,  they  must  be  an  exact  pattern 
of  those  which  had  gone  to  decay.  New  paint  might 
be  laid  upon  the  bricks,  but  it  must  be  red  and  not  even 
penciled  with  white,  as  some  advised,  to  give  it  a  more 
lively  appearance.  The  old,  curiously  wrought  ornaments 
that  surmounted  the  front  door,  and  the  heavy  mouldings 
that  projected  from  the  eaves  of  the  roof,  must  have  the 
same  coat  of  cream  color  they  had  sh6wn  for  a  hundred 
years. 

Within  the  house,  likewise,  he  was  resolute  in  keeping 
the  old  fashioned  furniture,  much  to  the  chagrin  of  his 
aunt,  the  present  mistress  of  his  mansion ;  in  all  other 
matters  she  might  do  as  she  pleased,  and  he  never  inter 
fered,  but  no  modern  chairs,  or  settees,  or  tables,  or  look 
ing  glasses,  were  allowed  to  usurp  the  places  of  those  his 
progenitors  had  used.  The  long  mantle  glass  with  its 
frame  of  glass,  he  had  always  seen,  and  the  solid  side 
board  with  its  silver  trays  and  tankards,  and  those  leath- 
8 


170  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

ern  bottom,  high  back  chairs  — were  to  him  as  old  friends, 
and  he  would  not  part  with  them. 

Two  rooms  in  the  house  were,  however,  more  particu 
larly  attractive  to  him.  They  were  in  the  second  story, 
on  the  south  side  of  the  great  hall ;  they  opened  into  each 
other  —  one  occupied  as  his  sleeping  apartment,  and  the 
other  as  a  library  or  sitting-room.  In  these  two  rooms  he 
may  be  said  to  have  lived,  they  were,  in  fact,  his  home  of 
homes.  In  his  library  were  two  large  glass  cases ;  one 
containing  the  books  which  had  been  gathered  by  his 
father  and  grandfather,  and  to  which  no  additions  were 
allowed ;  the  other  contained  those  which  he  himself  was 
collecting,  and  was  already  well  stored,  with  room  enough 
however,  for  all  that  would  be  needed  for  some  years  to 
come,  that  is,  if  he  purchased  only  what  he  wished  to 
read. 

On  some  accounts  the  life  which  young  Roland  led, 
might  be  one  of  comfort  and  ease  —  not  much  indeed 
that  was  exciting,  but  free  from  care,  perfect  leisure,  intel 
lectual  entertainment  in  abundance,  so  far  as  it  could  be 
derived  from  books,  and  every  luxury  that  his  taste  de 
manded.  No  one  to  disturb  his  quiet  when  ensconced  in 
his  easy  chair,  in  his  little  sanctum,  where  he  had  collected 
some  rare  and  costly  pictures  and  works  of  art,  and  for 
exercise,  a  fine  stud  of  horses  at  his  command.  He  was 
an  excellent  horseman,  and  he  took  delight  in  mounting, 
at  times,  some  of  the  more  spirited  of  his  beasts ;  he  could 
soon  tame  them  to  his  will.  His  favorite,  however,  was  a 
splendid  hunter,  imported  from  England ;  a  horse  perfect 
in  all  his  points,  docile  as  a  dog  and  fleet  as  a  deer  —  fear 
less  of  either  sight  or  sound ;  with  the  bridle  lying  on  his 
neck,  his  master  could  fire  his  double  barrelled  gun  from 
his  back  and  scarcely  an  ear  would  be  moved.  Perhaps 
Trim  had  as  large  a  share  of  his  master's  regard  as  all  the 
rest  of  the  world  together. 

But  in  saying  this,  the  reader  must  not  assume  that 
Donald  Roland  was  by  any  means  a  misanthrope.  He 
had  a  kind  heart,  and  one  that  could  be  most  intensely 
aroused.  Strong  passions,  too,  were  lying  beneath  an  ap 
parently  unmovable  superstratum,  the  fires  might  burst 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  171 

forth  at  any  moment,  but  the  calm  still  surface  gave  no  " 
token  of  their  existence. 

But  one  subject  of  annoyance  has  as  yet  crossed  his 
path.  It  was  not  a  very  serious  matter  after  all,  and  yet 
as  it  was  an  every  day  affair,  and  one  that  met  him  in  "his 
own  home,  and  from  which  he  could  not  very  well  rid  him 
self  —  it  was  something  more  than  a  vexation.  His  aunt 
as  has  been  said,  was  a  designing  woman,  and  was  endow 
ed  with  a  good  share  of  tact,  or  management.  She  had 
procured  good  berths  for  her  two  sons,  but  the  chief  aim 
of  her  life,  was,  if  possible,  to  get  a  berth  for  Cornelia, 
her  promising  daughter,  not  but  the  young  lady  might 
have  had  offers  enough  if  she  had  been  allowed  to  mingle 
in  general  society,  for  she  had  a  very  pretty  face,  even 
handsome,  and  a  genteel  form ;  she  had  some  education, 
too,  and  a  few  accomplishments ;  a  few  of  the  simple 
tunes  she  could  play  on  the  piano,  and  some  few  she  could 
in  her  way,  accompany  with  her  voice.  It  was  what  few 
of  the  farmers'  daughters  in  general  could  do  in  that  day, 
and  it  pleased  such  as  were  no  great  amateurs  —  and 
there  is  no  doubt  if  Miss  Cornelia  had  given  them  an  op 
portunity,  more  than  one  of  the  young  farmers  might 
have  been  quite  ready  to  make  her  suitable  offers  —  but 
Miss  Cornelia  had  been  taught  to  look  for  higher  things. 
"  It  would  be  such  a  snug  concern  and  all  in  the  family 
so,"  that  she  should  be  installed  mistress  of  Roland  place, 
and  for  a  while  every  thing  seemed  to  work  favorably  for 
such  a  result  until  it  came  to  be  considered  a  settled  mat 
ter  by  those  in  the  vicinity  who  felt  interested  in  such  af 
fairs,  that  Cornelia  Peabody  was  to  marry  her  cousin  Don 
ald,  or  he  was  to  marry  her,  and  the  estate  kept  in  the 
family. 

Donald  had  indeed  given  no  special  occasion  for  such 
conclusions  on  the  part  of  the  young  lady  herself.     He 
had  indeed  been  kind,  and  in  a  certain  way  attentive  to  . 
her ;  sometimes  she  wished  to  walk  through  the  woods,  \ 
and  Donald  would  accompany  her,  or  she  wished  to  ride  j- 
on  horseback  and  he  did  what  he  could  to  teach  her —  al-  i 
though  that  was  no  easy  task  —  she  was  too  timid  ever  to 
make  a  decent  rider.     She  was  at  times,  too,  "  very  desir 
ous  for  improvement,"  such  spells  however,  did  not  last 


172  LOOKING   AROUND. 

long,  but  he  was  rather  glad  to  find  that  she  had  a  desire 
for  knowledge,  and  of  course  placed  books  in  her  hand, 
and  occasionally  entered  into  conversation  concerning  the 
subject  she  had  been  reading ;  in  general,  however,  all  she 
could  say  about  it,  was  "It  was  very  interesting." 

As  there  were  in  general  few  visitors,  and  the  two  young 
persons  were  often  thrown  together,  it  was^but  civil,  and 
very  natural  too,  that  a  young  man  should  under  such  cir 
cumstances,  make  himself  agreeable ;  and  Donald  certain 
ly  did  so.  He  had  been  perfectly  unsuspicious  that  his  at 
tentions  could  possibly  have  been  misunderstood  by  a  lady 
of  common  discernment,  but  when  within  the  few  last 
weeks  on  occasion  of  saying  good-bye  to  her,  as  he  was 
about  to  be  absent  a  few  days,  he  saw  the  tears  drop 
ping  from  her  eyelids  and  the  handkerchief  applied  to  her 
face  to  hide  the  deep  emotion  that  was  stirring  up  her 
heart,  a  new  light  broke  upon  his  vision  all  at  once. 
He  must  change  his  conduct,  and  lose  no  time  in  letting 
her  and  all  others  interested  in  the  case  know,  that  it 
would  be  quite  agreeable  to  him  that  there  should  be  no 
tears,  or  heart-aches  on  his  account,  and  he  has  been  pon 
dering  the  matter  in  his  mind,  while  on  board  the  sloop 
on  his  way  home,  and  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that  his 
cousin  must  be  even  more  weak-minded  than  he  h*ad  sup 
posed,  but  in  some  way  or  other  a  stop  must  be  put  to  all 
such  expectations.  He  had  no  feeling  whatever  towards 
her,  but  that  of  good  will  —  nor  ever  could  have.  They 
had  no  sympathy  in  common.  She  was  not  in  the  least 
degree  a  realization  of  his  ideal  love  —  and  even  that  im 
aginary  idol  was  but  faintly  pictured  to  him  yet  —  in  fact, 
he  had  not  loved,  he  had  not  even  allowed  himself  the 
luxury  of  a  day  dream  on  that  subject ;  his  mind  is  not  in 
a  happy  state  for  such  an  expression. 

On  one  important  point,  there  was  a  cloud  on  the  mind 
of  young  Roland.  As  has  been  said,  he  was  sceptical  in 
regard  to  Divine  revelation.  It  was  not  an  unbelief  orig 
inating  in  a  "desire  to  disbelieve  because  the  precepts  of 
the  Bible  would  not  allow  him  to  follow  his  own  sinful  in 
clinations  ;  he  never  found  fault  with  the  purity  or  strict 
ness  of  its  precepts,  and  one  not  on  the  most  intimate  re 
lations  with  him  might,  from  the  correctness  of  his  life, 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  173 

have  very  naturally  drawn  the  conclusion  that  it  was  reg 
ulated  by  Scripture,  or  he  had  formed  good  habits  from  re 
ligious  training.  It  may  not  be  too  much  to  say,  that  he 
did  really  wish  to  believe ;  the  cloud  that  was  upon  him 
spoiled  all  his  sources  of  enjoyment.  Neither  the  beau 
ties  nor  wonders  of  creation,  nor  the  abundance  of  which 
he  was  possessed,  was  a  source  of  pleasure.  Life  to  him 
was  an  enigma,  and  a  great  mistake. 

What  had  produced  this  darkness,  it  would  be  needless 
to  inquire  ;  perhaps  he  himself  could  not  have  told  the 
reason  for  his  doubts,  but  they  were  none  the  less  real, 
and  they  cast  their  sombre  shadow  on  even  his  most  cheer 
ful  and  pleasurable  moments. 

Perhaps  this  sketch  has  been  particular  enough,  to  give 
the  reader  a  little  insight  to  the  individual  by  way  of  in 
troduction  ;  it  only  remains  to  give  a  slight  description  of 
his  personal  appearance.  He  came  of  a  portly  race  ;  both 
his  father  and  grandfather  were  distinguished  for  fine  fea 
tures  and  manly  proportions,  and  gained  flesh  as  they  ad 
vanced  toward  the  later  period  of  life,  retaining  to  the  last 
a  fresh  and  cheei-ful  countenance.  There  was  nothing  in 
Donald's  countenance  so  marked,  as  to  distinguish  him 
among  a  crowd.  He  was  good  looking,  his  features  well 
set ;  his  hair  raven  black,  and  his  eye  sparkling  and  bright. 
His  aspect  in  general  sober  and  thoughtful,  but  when 
pleasui-ably  excited,  a  most  winning  smile  would  illumine 
his  features.  His  voice  full  and  deep  toned,  and  a  set  of 
teeth  of  the  most  perfect  form,  and  apparently  indestruc 
tible.  He  was  of  full  stature,  well  proportioned,  graceful 
in  movement,  and  with  all  that  ease  of  manner  which  dis 
tinguishes  those  who  have  been  trained  to  it  from  their 
earliest  days. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sandford  had 
accepted  the  invitation  given  them  by  the  young  gentle 
man  with  whom  they  had  become  accidentally  acquainted 
on  board  the  sloop,  to  stop  at  his  landing,  as  it  would  be 
so  much  nearer  their  place  of  future  residence.  It  was 
just  at  the  breaking  of  day  that  the  sloop  neared  the  lit 
tle  whar£  and  the  party  intending  to  stop  there  were  mus 
tering  on  deck,  ready  to  step  on  shore  the  moment  the 
vessel  should  reach  the  dock. 


174  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

"  How  I  do  hate  to  part  with  you,"  said  Eva,  as  she  em 
braced  Mrs.  Sandford  in  saying  good-bye. 

"  Why  cannot  you  go  with  us,  dear  ?  I  know  Mr. 
Sandford  will  be  able,  in  a  few  days,  to  take  you  to  Mr. 
Blanchard's,  and  we  should  have  such  nice  times  in  get 
ting  things  fixed." 

"  I  should  like  it  above  all  things,  but  it  would  be  put 
ting  Mr.  Sandford  to  too  much  trouble." 

"  What  is  that  about  giving  me  trouble  ? "  said  Mr. 
Sandford,  as  he  came  up  to  them. 

"  Will  it,  pa,  be  too  much  trouble  for  you  in  a  few  days, 
after  things  get  a  little  fixed,  to  drive  Eva  home  to  Mr. 
Blanchard's  ?  I  want  her  to  land  here  with  us." 

"Trouble  !  no.    It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure." 

"  But  you  have  no  horse  yet,  and  may  not  be  able  to 
get  one." 

"  I  will  be  responsible  for  that,  miss,"  said  Roland. 
"  The  gentleman  shall  have  as  many  at  his  command  as 
he  may  require  for  any  such  service  ;  and  allow  me  most 
cordially  to  extend  the  invitation  I  have  given  to  this  lady 
and  gentleman,  so  as  to  include  youi-self ;  you  will  con 
fer  a  favor  by  accepting  it." 

"  Well,  if  you  all  say  so,  I  am  willing.  I  thank  you 
very  much,  sir,"  turning  to  young  Roland. 

He  bowed  to  her,  and  was  about  to  say  something  fur 
ther,  but  was  interrupted  by  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  came  up 
just  then,  with  a  scowl  on  his  forehead,  and  apparently  in 
no  very  good  humor. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean,  Sandford  ?  we  are  not  go 
ing  to  land  here  !  " 

"  Some  of  us  are,  sir.  This  young  gentleman,  Mr.  Ro 
land,  who  owns  this  landing,  has  invited  Mrs.  Sandford 
and  family  to  stop  here,  as  it  is  but  a  short  ride  to  our 
place,  and  we  are  going  to  throw  ourselves  upon  his  kind 
offer  to  have  us  conveyed  to  our  home." 

"  And  we  are  going,  Mr.  Blanchard,  to  take  Eva  with 
us." 

"  What  is  that  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  for  the  fun  of  it ;  it  will  be  so  pleasant  for  us, 
and  she  would  like  it  too.  We  will  see  her  safe  home  to 
you  again." 


LOOKING    AROUND.  175 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  giving  a  great  deal  of  useless  trouble 
No,  no,  I  do  not  think  it  best." 

"  But  I  do,"  said  Eva,  looking  at  Mr.  Blanchard  with  a 
pleasant  smile  on  her  countenance. 

Mr.  Blanchard  was  about  to  let  out  his  feelings  which 
had  become  almost  uncontrollable ;  for  many  reasons  he 
was  quite  out  of  sorts.  He  was  angry  at  the  captain  for 
stopping  the  progress  of  his  vessel  to  land  passengers  at 
this  out  of  the  way  place,  but  for  prudential  motives,  he 
kept  in  the  worst  of  them ;  yet  some  reply  he  must  make 
to  Eva's  short  answer,  and  to  do  so  he  had  to  follow  her 
to  another  part  of  the  vessel,  for  she  had  tripped  across 
the  deck  to  where  her  old  nurse  was  standing,  and  was 
telling  her  of  her  purpose,  and  of  what  she  wished  done 
about  putting  their  rooms  in  readiness  against  her  return. 

"  Eva,"  said  Mr.  Blanchard  on  coming  up,  "  I  am  sur 
prised  at  the  answer  you  made  just  now,  and  before  so 
many  people." 

"  Not  more  so,  I  presume,  sir,  than  I  was  by  your  at 
tempt  to  restrain  my  wishes." 

"  Who  else  is  there  to  do  it,  if  I  do  not." 

"No  one  I  hope,  but  ray  own  judgment." 

"  A  pretty  restraint  that  would  be." 

M  As  much  as  I  feel  willing  to  submit  to  at  present." 

"  I  do  not  think  it  proper  you  should  go  with  those  peo 
ple,  and  I  shall  not  consent  to  it." 

Aunt  Lizzy  now  whispered  in  her  ear. 

"  Do,  darling,  for  the  goodness  sake,  don't  speak  so,  you 
will  be  making  trouble." 

Eva,  hoAvever,  had  been  thinking  very  hard  most  of  the 
night.  She  had,  as  never  before,  examined  things  in  refer 
ence  to  her  situation  for  some  time  past,  and  the  conclu 
sion  she  had  come  to  was,  that  she  had  passed  from  a  state 
of  childhood,  and  ought  not  to  be  treated  as  such.  She 
was  now  past  eighteen,  and  could  see  no  propriety  in  be 
ing  called  to  account  for  every  turn  she  wished  to  make. 
She  had  submitted  to  it  during  the  life  of  Mrs.  Blanchard, 
but  the  watch  which  had  been  held  over  her  of  late,  had 
become  offensive,  as  had  the  peculiar  treatment  of  Mr. 
Blanchard.  His  obsequious  attentions  for  a  few  months 
past,  were  more  disagreeable  than  all  the  indifference  with 


fr          ; '    . 

176  LOOKING   AROUND. 

which  Mrs.  Blanchard  had  treated  her.  She  now  deter 
mined  to  have  the  matter  well  understood  —  at  least,  be 
tween  Mr.  Blanchard  and  herself.  She  had  passed  over 
his  abrupt  refusal  with  a  determined  reply  indeed,  but 
with  a  pleasant  manner,  but  since  he  has  made  such  seri 
ous  work  of  it,  she  put  on  a  serious  air  likewise.  She  did 
not  think  a  reply  to  his  last  remark  necessary,  so  request 
ing  Aunt  Lizzy  to  bring  her  shawl  and  reticule  from  the 
cabin,  she  at  once  resumed  her  place  by  the  side  of  Mrs. 
Sandford. 

The  determined  manner  of  Eva  completely  disconcert 
ed  her  guardian.  He  could  do  nothing  further  by  way  of 
enforcing  authority,  without  exposing  himself  to  ridicule 
or  insult,  for  he  felt  assured  all  would  take  her  part.  His 
resentment  then  turned  upon  the  captain.  He  could  do 
nothing  now,  but  once  ashore  he  believed  he  knew  what 
string  to  pull  that  would  make  this  "  fellow  "  smart  for  it. 

It  did  indeed  take  more  time  to  get  alongside  and  all 
on  shore,  than  one  could  have  supposed,  for  they  lost  the 
current  of  the  wind,  and  it  was  found  necessary  at  length 
to  use  the  great  sweeps.  All  this  took  time,  and  the  sun 
was  throwing  his  rays  on  the  summit  of  the  western 
mountains  as  the  little  party  stepped  upon  the  deck. 

Now  all  this  may  seem  hardly  worth  the  trouble  of 
narrating,  but  great  events  are  sometimes  hinged  on  tri 
fling  circumstances,  and  some  very  important  consequen 
ces  to  several  of  those  who  have  just  landed  on  that  lit 
tle  dock,  will  be  seen  to  follow  this  movement,  and  even 
to  shape  their  destiny  for  life,  and  of  some  too,  who  did 
not  land. 

It  was  no  little  surprise  to  the  company  that  followed 
young  Roland  up  the  winding  path  when  they  reached 
the  plateau  above,  on  which  stood  the  noble  mansion  with 
its  beautiful  lawn  and  majestic  shades. 

"  What  a  beauty  spot !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sandford,  each 
of  the  company  assenting  in  terms  of  unqualified  delight. 

"What  a  pity  the  house  cannot  be  seen  from  the  river." 

"It  can,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "from  several 
points,  but  not  immediately  opposite.  I  suspect  the  place 
is  somewhat  like  its  owner  —  a  good  deal  of  substantial 
worth  without  much  desire  for  notoriety." 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  177 

This  remark  could  not  have  been  heard  by  the  gentle 
man  himself,  as  he  walked  somewhat  in  advance,  leading 
in  his  hand  the  little  boy  of  Mr.  Sandford,  who  had  be 
came  quite  intimate  with  him,  since  the  present  of  the 
knife. 

As  they  ascended  the  steps,  and  stood  upon  the  extend 
ed  and  roomy  piazza,  Mrs.  Sandford  could  not  help  saying 
to  her  host : 

"  Oh,  I  could  live  on  this  porch  !  I  should  not  care  for 
anything  more  of  a  house." 

"  Perhaps  in  cold  weather,  madam,  you  would  like  walls 
to  it." 

"That,  indeed!  but  I  am  only  thinking  of  summer, 
now." 

But  the  hall  was  wider  than  the  porch,  and  the  large 
parlor  into  which  they  were  immediately  led,  with  its 
heavy  wooden  cornice,  and  its  deep  embrasures  and  cush 
ioned  seat  under  each  window,  and  the  deeply  moulded 
panneling  that  covered  the  walls,  and  the  old  fashioned, 
rich  furniture,  was  a  still  further  source  of  admiration. 

In  a  few  moments  a  lady  entered,  accompanied  by  the 
master  of  the  house,  whom  the  latter  introduced  as  his 
aunt,  Mrs.  Peabody." 

"And  now,  aunt,  if  you  will  please  to  order  breakfast 
as  soon  as  it  can  be  had,  I  know  it  will  be  agreeable  to  us 
all  —  I  am  sure  it  will  to  me." 

"  Oh,  but  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  that  was 
not  in  the  agreement ! " 

"  It  was  not  so  written  down,  I  know,  but  it  was  so  un 
derstood  by  me,  I  assure  you,  madam ;  country  hospitali 
ty,  you  must  know,  always  includes  'breaking  bread  to 
gether,'  and  I  promise  myself  the  pleasure,  if  it  should  be 
agreeable  to  you,  of  returning  the  compliment  perhaps 
quite  as  often  as  you  may  wish." 

"  Well,  sir,  on  these  conditions,  I  for  one  am  certainly 
willing  to  accede  to  your  proposals  ;  but  believe  me  we  had 
no  idea  of  putting  you  to  such  trouble." 

While  the  anticipated  meal  was  in  preparation,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Sandford,  and  Eva,  seated  themselves  upon  the  pi 
azza,  admiring  not  only  the  immediate  premises,  but  the 
fine  view  in  the  openings  to  the  river,  and  the  mountains 
*8 


178  LOOKING  AROUND. 

behind  threw  up  their  massive  heads  as  far  as  they  could 
see. 

"It  seems  to  me,  dear  husband,  that  such  surroundings 
as  this  young  man  has,  must  tend  to  purify  and  ennoble  the 
mind." 

"  One  would  naturally  think  so,  but  all  do  not  admire 
nature  as  you  do." 

"  But,"  said  Eva,  "  do  you  not  think  that  a  person  may 
be  affected  by  the  scenes  of  nature  unconsciously  ?  Now, 
there  is  something  about  this  gentleman  that  seem  to  me 
in  keeping  with  his  '  surroundings,'  as  Mrs.  Sandford  calls 
them.  His  ease  of  manner,  his  unpretending  politeness, 
his  freedom  from  all  that  stiffness,  both  in  dress  and  be 
havior,  which  so  often  we  see  in  the  city ;  may  not  all 
this  have  been  acquired  by  living  amid  the  graces  of  na 
ture  ?  " 

"  And  yet,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "  are  not  farmers  in  gen 
eral,  Miss  Stanley,  thought  to  be  clownish  ?  " 

"  There  are,  no  doubt,  many  persons  of  rude  manners 
to  be  found  in  the  country,  but  I  have  noticed,  even  among 
those  who  work  hard  on  their  own  land,  a  certain  ease  of 
manner,  and  quiet,  unpretending  politeness,  that  has  been 
quite  as  pleasing  to  me,  as  the  more  formal  and  conven 
tional  manners  of  the  city.  No,  I  do  not  believe,  that  in 
general,  country  people  are  clownish." 

Young  Roland  now  came  up  to  them ;  he  had  been  giv 
ing  some  directions  to  his  coachman. 

"  You  perceive,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  "that  we  are  admir 
ers  of  nature.  We  cannot  get  our  fill  of  the  luxuries 
around  us." 

"  I  hope,  madam,  since  you  are  as  you  say,  *  about  to  be 
come  an  inhabitant  of  the  country,'  that  your  enjoyment 
of  its  beauties  may  not  be  marred  by  circumstances.  I 
presume  our  pleasure  from  such  sources,  depends  much 
more  upon  other  things,  than  the  aspect  of  nature  herself, 
even  to  those  who  may  be  her  lovers." 

"  No  doubt  that  is  true.  'It  is  content  of  heai't  gives 
nature  power  to  please." 

He  immediately  replied : 

"  To  some, '  a  dreary  wild  at  best,  in  spite  of  its  gor 
geous  array.' " 


LOOKING   AROUND.  179 

Mrs.  Sandford  looked  at  the  gentleman  as  he  quoted 
this  line,  and  was  struck  with  the  peculiar  expression  of 
sadness  that,  for  the  moment,  settled  upon  his  counte 
nance,  and  with  woman's  quickness  drew  the  conclusion 
that  there  was  some  canker  at  the  bud ;  a  slight  sigh,  too, 
escaped  his  lips.  At  once  a  deep  interest  was  aroused  in 
her  heart.  She  wished  to  gain  his  confidence,  to  probe 
the  wound,  and  help  remove  the  cause  of  suffering,  what 
ever  it  might  be.  The  shadow,  however,  passed  quickly 
away,  for  he  turned  to  Mr.  Sandford,  and  with  a  smile, 
said : 

"Men,  I  believe,  have  so  much  to  do  with  the  realities 
of  life  —  either  in  subduing  nature  to  their  use,  or  what 
is  harder  still,  contending  against  the  elements  of  selfish 
ness,  of  which  the  world  is  full,  or  baffling  unpropitious 
fates  —  that  they  have  not  much  feeling  left  for  the  poet 
ry  of  nature." 

"  You  think  it  is  all  prose  with  them  ?  "  said  Mr.  Sand- 
ford. 

"  Pretty  much  so,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  cannot  say  but  I  can  sympathize  a  little  in  the 
poetical  view  which  you  think  the  ladies  take  of  nature, 
but  I  have  seen  the  time  when  I  would  have  given  more 
to  know  where  the  means  were  to  come  from  to  meet  my 
engagements  at  bank,  than  for  the  most  fascinating  view 
the  combined  beauties  of  nature  could  present.  Now  I 
can  enjoy  whatever  comes  along.  I  have  banished  care, 
that  is,  coiToding  care,  and  my  mind  is  at  rest." 

"  That  is  saying  a  great  deal,  sir.  I  should  like  to  get 
your  recipe ;  perhaps  as  we  are  to  be  neighbors,  you  may 
take  the  trouble  at  some  time  to  give  it  me." 

"  I  can  give  it  to  you  Mr.  Roland,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford, 
laying  her  arm  on  her  husband's  shoulder,  "  he  has  a  good 
wife." 

"  I  should  think,  madam,  that  may  be  an  important  ar 
ticle  in  the  recipe,  and  yet  under  some  circumstances,  I 
could  imagine  that  fact  might  only  be  a  source  of  great 
unrest  —  but  there  is  our  bell,"  and  offering  his  arm  to 
Mrs.  Sandford,  preceded  the  little  company  into  the  break 
fast  room.  Miss  Cornelia  had  not  yet  seen  her  cousin 
Donald ;  she  was  in  the  room,  however,  when  the  compa 
ny  entered." 


180  LOOKING    AKOUND. 

"  Good-morning,  cousin,"  said  Roland,  giving  her  his 
hand,  as  they  had  not  seen  each  other  for  the  last  fort 
night,  at  the  same  time  introducing  her  to  the  new  circle. 
The  young  lady  was  quite  reserved,  both  at  the  time  and 
during  the  meal,  whether  from  perceiving  that  she  had 
fallen  into  company  that  was  a  little  more  intelligent  than 
usual,  or  for  some  other  reason  Donald  could  not  define. 
She  was,  he  knew,  by  no  means  bashful,  and  was  in  gene 
ral  quite  talkative.  He  noticed,  however,  that  she  kept 
her  eye  fixed  on  Miss  Stanley,  so  far  as  she  could  do  it, 
with  any  kind  of  decency.  The  meal,  with  the  exception 
that  the  mistress  of  the  table  and  her  daughter  were  rath 
er  silent,  was  a  very  social  one  indeed,  and  when  it  was 
finished,  and  as  they  were  passing  through  the  hall,  Mrs. 
Sandford  remarked : 

"  I  can  now  understand  why  it  is,  that  you  gentlemen 
and  ladies,  who  have  your  home  in  the  country,  have 
adopted  the  idea  that  a  visit  is  of  no  account,  unless  you 
can  as  you  have  said, '  break  bread  together.'  I  feel  as  if 
we  were  more  intimately  acquainted  than  we  should  have 
been  by  any  number  of  mei-e  calls." 

"  That  remark  reminds  me,  madam,  of  an  Eastern  usage 
in  reference  to  guests,  and  that  is,  '  that  any  person  who 
has  partaken  of  your  salt,  must,  in  person  and  character 
be  sacred  to  you.' " 

"  And  what  an  admirable  custom  it  is,  why  cannot  we 
adopt  it  ?  " 

I  believe  in  general,  madam,  the  effect  of  a  social  meal 
is  to  awaken  kind  feelings  for  the  time,  but  the  evil  is,  that 
we  are  such  perverse  creatures,  and  under  such  baneful 
influences,  that  charity  as  well  as  other  kindred  virtues, 
cannot  abide  with  us.  It  may  linger  a  few  moments,  like 
the  bubble  on  the  broken  stream,  and  then  is  gone." 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  not  think  quite  so  bad  of  humanity 
as  that ;  you  and  I  are  too  young  to  allow  of  such  dark 
views.  Now,  believe  me,  I  was  on  the  point  of  promising 
in  my  own  case  to  carry  out  the  beautiful  idea  suggested 
by  that  eastern  custom  you  spoke  of;  only  to  think  how 
soon  one  would  be  absolutely  shut  out  from  not  only  slan 
der,  but  ungenerous  thoughts  !  " 

They  had  now  reached  the  piazza  again  —  that  is,  the 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  181 

two  who  were  holding  the  conversation  recorded  above. 
Eva  had  entered  the  parlor,  and  Mr.  Sandford,  with  his 
little  son,  were  on  the  way  to  the  garden.  Mrs.  Sandford 
was  becoming  much  interested  in  her  host,  and  he  in  like 
manner  manifested  a  disposition  to  converse  with  her  in 
preference  to  others  —  and  thatwas,  by  no  means  to  be 
wondered  at.  They  were  apparently  about  the  same  age. 
She  was  still  in  the  bloom  of  life,  with  all  its  freshness 
and  buoyancy — her  beauty  uninjured  as  yet  by  the  cares 
of  life  — her  mind  elastic  and  well  cultivated  —  her  tem 
perament  joyous  and  ready  at  all  times  to  enter  with  spir 
it  into  the  duties  or  pleasures  of  the  passing  hour.  Young 
Roland  had  not  been  iised  to  just  such  society  as  that  of 
Mrs.  Sandford.  That  in  which  he  had  occasionally  mingled 
was  rather  of  a  plain  stamp,  in  which  his  mind  could  take 
no  interest,  from  the  fact  that  there  was  nothing  congenial 
to  it.  He  was  not  only  now  ready  to  do  the  honors  of  a 
host,  but  to  embrace  every  opportunity  for  familiar  con 
versation.  As  they  stepped  upon  the  piazza,  Mrs.  Sand- 
ford  remarked : 

"  I  suppose  there  are  people  in  the  world,  who  would 
value  those  majestic  trees  merely  as  so  much  cord  wood." 

"Doubtless,  madam,  but  they  would  not  have  allowed 
them  to  attain  their  present  size,  before  they  had  laid  the 
ax  to  their  roots ;  they  are  rather  too  large  now  to  be 
handled  with  profit.  After  all,  perhaps  such  people  are 
as  wise  as  any ;  they  look  upon  the  world  as  a  utilitarian 
concern  altogether,  and  take  some  pleasure  in  making  the 
most  of  it.  Their  aspirations  are  for  gain,  and  their  hearts 
are  satisfied  with  the  results." 

"  But  what  a  wretched  existence  must  that  be." 

"  Perhaps  not  more  so,  than  that  of  one  who,  gifted 
with  an  intense  imagination,  throws  the  halo  of  poetry 
around  all  he  sees  in  the  natural  world,  and  finds  at  length 
the  brightness  vanish  and  dark  mists  spreading  the  gloom 
of  reality  over  his  fairy  pictures,  and  groans  out,  '  all  is 
vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.' " 

"  You  describe  one,  who,  although  of  poetical  sympa 
thies,  has  not  had  a  mind  properly  balanced.  He  has  not 
viewed  God  in  his  handiwork ;  the  glory  of  the  earth 
and  the  heavens  have  not  been  to  him  an  emanation  of 


182  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

Divine  wisdom  and  love.  Our  beautiful  world  without 
God,  must  be  sooner  or  later,  to  such  as  you  remarked 
this  morning,  '  a  dreary  wild  at  best.'  As  Mrs.  Sandford 
said  this,  she  fixed  her  bright,  blue  eye  full  upon  her  com 
panion  ;  his  quailed  before  it,  and  that  peculiar  shade  of 
sadness  marked  his  countenance ;  he  made  no  reply,  and 
feeling  now  well  assured  that  from  some  cause  she  could 
not  fathom,  the  present  subject  was  painful  to  him,  deter 
mined  to  follow  it  no  further.  After  a  few  moments'  si 
lence,  he  said : 

"  I  suppose  according  to  agreement,  I  ought  now  to 
be  making  preparations  to  see  you  to  your  new  home,  but 
I  have  still  a  request  to  make  in  reference  to  that  matter. 
I  understand  from  Mr.  Sandford,  that  your  servants  have 
gone  on  with  the  sloop,  and  of  course  will  not  be  here  un 
til  sometime  in  the  course  of  the  day;  I  propose,  there 
fore,  that  we  take  a  ride  to  your  place,  and  I,  with  my 
man  and  Mr.  Sandford,  do  what  we  can,  under  your  di 
rection  of  course,  in  putting  things  in  order;  then  your 
self  and  family  return  with  me  and  spend  the  night.  You 
can  scarcely  be  comfortable  by  one  day's  preparation,  and 
you  see,  we  have  abundance  of  room,  and  provender 
enough." 

"  Oh,  you  are  very  kind.  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say 
something  about  the  trouble  we  should  be  giving  you,  but 
I  believe  I  already  understand  you  well  enough  to  know 
that  you  would  not  have  given  the  invitation,  without  tak 
ing  that  into  account,  so  I  will  say  nothing  on  my  own  ac 
count  against  the  preparation.  To  me  it  would  be  very 
pleasant,  but  —  smiling  archly  as  she  said  it, '  you  know  I 
have  a  husband.' " 

"  And  I  have  no  doubt  his  highest  pleasure  is  to  meet 
your  wishes." 

"  Ah,  ha !  you  must  not  be  too  sure  that  his  judgment 
and  my  wishes  may  coincide.  He  is  fifteen  years  my  sen 
ior,  and  more  than  that,  wiser  than  I,  and  withal  not  quite 
so  much  influenced  by  feeling." 

"  In  spite  of  these  possible  obstacles,  I  will  venture  a 
good  guess  that  if  you  authorize  me  to  express  your  con 
sent,  I  shall  not  find  them  insurmountable." 

"  I  do,"  she  playfully  replied,  "  and  more  than  that,  will 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  183 

be  bold  enough  to  say,  I  wish  you  success,  so  you  see  what 
kind  of  a  visitor  you  have  got  on  hand." 

"  I  hope  by  the  time  she  loses  that  title,  I  may  be  per 
mitted  to  give  her  a  far  better  one. 

"Thank  you,  I  think  I  shall  not  have  reason  to  be 
ashamed  of  it." 

"  I  hope  so,  but  dare  not  make  a  guess  as  to  that." 

Roland  immediately  after  giving  directions  for  the  car 
riage  to  be  in  readiness,  walked  into  the  garden  to  seek 
Mr.  Sandford,  and  very  soon  the  two  gentlemen  returned 
to  the  house.  Eva  had  now  joined  Mrs.  Sandford,  and 
as  the  two  gentlemen  neared  them,  Mr.  Sandford  looked 
at  his  wife,  and  gave  her  a  meaning  smile.  She  at  once 
answered  to  it : 

"  You  know,  dear,  I  am  very  easily  persuaded." 

"  Yes,  true,  when  your  own  mind  is  in  favor  of  the 
thing,  but  I  must  leave  the  whole  matter  to  Miss  Stanley 
and  yourself;  I  feel,  I  must  say,  very  much  like  a  passen 
ger  at  present,  or  a  boy  in  a  holiday." 

"  I  advise  you,  then,  sir,"  said  Roland,  "  to  make  the 
most  of  it.  I  rather  think  when  you  come  to  get  things 
in  full  operation,  you  will  find  farming  not  much  of  a  holi 
day." 

"  You  think  not !  Well,  I  know  it  will  be  new  business, 
but  my  dear  sir,  there  will  be  no  notes  to  pay  —  no  devis 
ing  of  ways  and  means  —  no  asking  favors  of  bank  direc 
tors  —  no  fear  of  tightness  in  the  money  market,  or  of 
Western  notes  —  any  thing  will  be  better  than  such  bur 
dens." 

"True,  but  after  all,  farming  has  its  peculiarities;  a 
man  must  have  a  good  stock  of  patience  to  begin  with." 

"  I  can  help  him  to  that,  Mr.  Roland." 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  madam,  that  you  will  do  all  you  can 
that  way,  but  if  you  are  willing  to  receive  the  advice  of 
a  friend,  I  would  suggest  that  you  do  not  be  too  liberal ; 
you  may  find  it  quite  convenient  to  have  a  small  store  on 
hand  for  yourself." 

"  Oh,  dear  me !  I  hope  you  do  not  mean  to  bring  up 
any  bugbears  to  frighten  folks.  Why,  I  have  in  my  mind 
the  most  beautiful  vision  of  green  fields,  and  pure  air  and 
sweet  scents,  and  delicious  shades  and  calm  domestic 


. 
184  LOOKING   AROUND. 

quiet  —  of  sitting  with  ray  husband  beneath  the  shadows 
of  our  own  Mines,  talking  and  reading,  while  the  birds  are 
making  sweet  music  for  us." 

"  It  is  a  pretty  scene,  Mrs.  Sandford,  and  I  think  I  should 
like  to  make  one  of  the  party  under  those  vines  you  speak 
of,  but  perhaps  a  third  person  would  spoil  the  charm." 

"By  no  means,  I  assure  you.  You  might  point  out 
beauties  which  we  did  not  see." 

"  I  fear  not,  madam  ;  I  rather  think  you  would  find  me 
too  much  like  the  man  who  would  make  cord  wood  of 
those  trees." 

"  Then  I  should  forever  renounce  all  pretensions  to  an 
alyze  character." 

"  And  I,  too,"  said  Mr.  Sandford. 

Roland  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  conversation  was 
interrupted  by  a  messenger,  who  came  to  inform  him  that 
that  a  gentleman  on  horseback,  was  at  the  gate  near  the 
barn,  and  would  be  glad  to  see  him. 

"  There  is  something  about  that  young  man,"  said  Mr. 
Sandford,  after  Roland  had  got  out  of  hearing,  "  that  I 
admire  very  much  ;  what  say  you,  Miss  Eva  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  feel  quite  at  liberty  to  give  an  opinion 
of  young  gentlemen.  You  know  I  am  under  guardian 
and  teachers." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  long  under  the  one  you  now 
have.  Well,  I  dare  give  my  opinion,  even  in  presence  of 
my  husband  ;  I  think  him  one  of  the  most  agreeable  gen 
tlemen  I  have  met  with  for  a  great  while,  but,  dear  hus 
band,  depend  upon  it,  there  is  some  cause  of  sorrow  at  his 
heart.  Do  you  not  notice  how  his  features  settle  into 
melancholy  shadow,  when  not  in  conversation,  and  even 
sometimes  then.  How  I  should  like  to  know  what  it  is, 
but  here  he  comes,  and  another  gentleman  with  him,"  and 
turning  to  Eva,  "  why,  my  dear,  it  is  Mr.  Herbert !  " 

Mrs.  Sandford  saw,  however,  that  Eva  had  discovered 
ihat  fact  already,  for  she  was  very  pale  and  seemed  much 
agitated.  As  young  Roland  led  the  gentleman  up  to  the 
little  group,  his  face  assumed  a  brighter  aspect  than  they 
had  before  seen  it  wear. 

"  You  see,  my  friends,  that  our  little  episode  of  the 
storm  on  our  voyage,  is  like  to  turn  out  much  to  our  ad- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  185 

vantage ;  it  has  made  us  acquainted  with  some  new  neigh 
bors." 

"  What,"  replied  Mrs.  Sandford,  as  she  gave  her  hand  to 
Herbert,  "  are  you  and  your  sisters  to  be  in  this  vicinity  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  two  miles  from  here  —  that  is,  as  re 
gards  my  sisters  —  my  stay  here  will  be  only  a  few  hours." 

"  And  but  a  stone's  throw  from  your  house,  Mrs.  Sand- 
ford,"  said  Roland. 

"  How  very  glad  I  am ;  who  knows  what  that  storm 
was  sent  for !  If  you  had  not  been  taken  up  by  us  and 
if  I  had  not  taken  that  sail,  or  rather  row  with  you,  I 
should  not  have  known  anything  about  you,  and  now  I 
feel  as  if  you  and  your  sisters  are  old  acquaintances  ;  how 
very  pleasant  it  will  be." 

"  I  assure  you,  madam,  it  is  highly  pleasing  to  me,  as 
my  sisters  will  be  alone  —  that  is,  away  from  those  with 
whom  they  have  been  on  terms  of  intimacy.  I  feel  it 
will  be  a  great  thing  for  them  if  they  can  have  the  privi 
lege  of  your  society.  They  are  known  only  to  the  fami 
ly  of  Mr.  Ransom." 

"  And  I  shall  esteem  it  a  great  privilege,  I  can  assure 
you  to  have  theirs,  for  do  you  not  know,  I  have  fallen  in 
love  with  that  elder  one,  and  now  Eva,  if  we  could  have 
you  with  us,  what  a  happy  little  company  we  should  make. 
But  I  thought,  Mr.  Herbert,  you  were  to  have  returned 
to  the  city  last  evening." 

"  That  had  been  my  intention,  madam,  but  as  I  learned 
there  was  a  private  landing  in  this  vicinity,  from  which  I 
could  get  on  board  the  steamboat,  I  concluded  to  spend 
one  day  longer  and  see  my  sisters  settled." 

"  Then  you  go  down  this  evening  ?  " 

"  That  is,  if  Mr.  Roland,  who  I  understands  owns  the 
landing,  will  not  object  to  my  using  it,"  at  the  same  time 
turning  with  a  smile  to  that  gentleman. 

"  I  am  too  happy,  Herbert,  if  it  can  be  of  any  service 
to  you,  and  will  order  the  light  there  in  time  to  arrest  the 
notice  of  the  boat." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  I  thank  you.  Mr.  Bradford  spoke 
of  taking  a  light  with  us." 

"  Not  the  least  occasion  for  it.  .  I  have  one  expressly 
for  the  purpose,  and  as  I  see  my  carriage  is  coming  to  con- 


186  LOOKING   AROUND. 

vey  our  friends  here,  we  will  go  to  the  barn  and  attend  to 
that  business.  Please  excuse  us  ladies,  for  a  few  mo 
ments." 

"  Certainly,  and  shall  we  be  getting  ready  ?  " 

"  If  you  please." 

When  the  two  young  men  entered  the  stables,  Roland 
remarked : 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Herbert,  I  do  not  wish  to  part 
with  either  of  these  horses,  although  I  have  scarcely  any 
use  for  them  ;  they  are  both  ladies'  horses, —  one  of  them, 
perhaps,  the  most  perfect  creature  for  that  purpose,  that 
can  be  found  within  a  hundred  miles  circuit,  as  docile  as 
a  lamb,  and  with  the  agility  of  a  deer  —  no  timidity,  and 
very  fond  of  being  caressed.  Is  your  sister  accustomed 
to  a  horse  ?  " 

"  Quite  so  ;  she  is  perfectly  fearless,  and  a  good  rider." 

"  I  know  it  will  be  very  difficult  for  you  to  procure  any 
thing  around  here  suitable  for  a  lady  to  ride,  and  no 
doubt  Bradford  knew  that  when  he  directed  you  here.  I 
tell  you  what  I  will  do ;  I  cannot  think  of  selling  the 
horse  —  the  fact  is,  my  horses  are  my  pets  —  you  see  I 
have  nothing  else  to  love." 

"  Then  all  stories  I  hear,  are  not  true  ?  " 

"  What  stories  ? "  and  he  looked  at  his  visitor  with 
much  meaning. 

"  Oh,  pardon  me,  it  was  rather  presuming  in  me  to  have 
taken  such  a  liberty.  Please  excuse  me,  Roland,  I  was  off 
my  guard  —  thrown  off  by  your  playful  remark,  in  refer 
ence  to  your  horses." 

"  I  assure  you,  my  dear  fellow,  I  take  no  offence  at  it, 
but  you  have  doubtless  heard  something  that  is  of  conse 
quence  to  me  to  know,  and  as  you  and  I  are  old  friends, 
if  you  have  heard,  in  any  way,  my  name  connected  seri 
ously  with  that  of  any  lady,  I  ask  you,  as  a  particular  fa 
vor,  to  reveal  it  to  me.  Who  told  you  is  of  no  conse 
quence,  I  do  not  by  any  means  wish  to  know,  but  there 
are  reasons  in  my  case  which  I  could  easily  explain  if  I 
had  time,  why,  I  wish  to  know  the  substance  of  the  report 
you  have  heard." 

"  It  was  simply  this,  Roland ;  that  it  was  a  general  ru 
mor  that  you  were  engaged  to  be  married." 


LOOKING   AROUND.  187 

"  And  to  whom  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  paid  some  little  attention  to  the  matter  —  I 
had  a  little  curiosity  to  know  who  the  lady  was — it  was 
to  a  cousin." 

Young  Roland  took  his  hand. 

"  I  thank  you  most  cordially  for  your  frankness  ;  what 
you  have  said  is  of  more  importance  to  me  than  you  can 
well  imagine.  I  have  had  some  suspicion  that  there  might 
be  such  a  rumor,  I  shall  now  be  on  my  guard.  In  gene 
ral,  we  young  men  have  no  objections  to  such  reports  — 
but  only  when  they  happen  to  have  truth  on  their  side. 
If  it  should  be  in  your  way  to  contradict  such  report,  it 
will  oblige  me  to  have  you  do  so,  and  you  may  give  your 
authority." 

"  I  will  certainly."  ' 

"  And  now,  Herbert,  as  I  said,  I  do  not  wish  to  sell  this 
horse,  but  having  no  present  use  for  him,  it  will  give  me 
pleasure  to  know  that  somebody  has  enjoyment  from  him, 
and  as  your  sister  is  used  to  riding,  and  as  you  say  is  fear 
less,  I  will  gladly  loan  him  as  long  as  she  may  need  his 
services.  Whom  can  you  get  to  take  care  of  him  for 
her?" 

"  Mr.  Bradford  said  if  I  could  procure  a  horse,  he  would 
himself  see  to  that." 

"That  will  do;  Bradford  is  a  fine  fellow  —  fond  of 
horses,  and  knows  how  to  take  care  of  them ;  then  if  you 
are  willing  to  accept  my  proposition,  the  horse  is  at  your 
service." 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you,  except  by  thank 
ing  you  most  heartily  for  your  generous  offer.  I  am  quite 
willing  to  pay  a  liberal  price  for  the  horse,  but  as  you  feel 
unable  to  release  your  claim  from  your  pet,  I  must  either 
take  him  on  your  own  terms,  or  relinquish  the  hope  of 

f-atifying  my  sister.     I  will  at  once,  when  I  reach  New 
ork,  send  up  proper  equipments." 

"  By  no  means.  I  have  them  all  —  made  on  purpose  — 
a  perfect  fit  and  but  little  used ;  in  fact,  I  should  prefer 
them  to  be  used  in  preference  to  new  ones  ;  they  might 
not  be  exactly  suited,  and  would  make  him  restive,  and  as 
your  sister  may  feel  better  pleased  to  think  she  was  using 


188  LOOKING   AROUND. 

her  own  horse  and  accoutrements,  you  need  not  let  her 
know  they  are  not  her  own." 

"  She  ought  to  know,  however,  the  obligation  she  is  un 
der." 

"  By  no  means  necessary,  and  indeed,  upon  further  re 
flection,  I  should  prefer  that  she  did  not  know  the  precise 
terms  of  our  bargain,  nor  any  one  else  beside  ourselves, 
only  that  under  no  circumstances  must  he  be  sold ;  that 
when  she  had  no  further  use  for  him,  he  is  to  be  returned 
to  me,  and  I  to  settle  with  you  on  your  return." 

The  hostler  was  now  summoned  to  equip  Tommy,  and 
the  beautiful  creatui'e  pawed  and  neighed  and  seemed  de 
lighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  frolic  in  the  open  air.  He 
was  a  pure  white  with  here  and  there  a  spot  a  little  shad 
ed  with  brown,  thin  mane,  a  little  curled,  and  light  tail, 
—  his  neck  finely  arched,  with  a  bright  eye,  and  a  coun 
tenance  denoting  sprightliness  and  docility. 

"  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  should  be  unwilling  to  lose 
your  claim  to  this  animal,"  said  Herbert,  "  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  love  him  myself.  I  hardly  know  how  to  express  my 
obligations  for  your  generous  kindness." 

"  The  truth  is,  Herbert,  I  am  so  much  alone,  and  few 
persons  around  here  to  associate  with,  I  feel  anxious  to 
do  what  I  can  to  encourage  any  who  come  into  our  neigh 
borhood,  and  make  their  stay  as  pleasant  as  possible.  I 
am  anticipating  much  pleasure  in  the  acquaintance  I  have 
made  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Sandford,  and  that  reminds  me 
that  they  may  be  waiting  for  me.  Do  you  return  imme 
diately  ?  if  so,  I  will  accompany  you,  as  I  shall  ride  on 
horseback.  I  will  just  put  this  bridle  over  the  pommel, 
and  the  horse  will  follow  us." 

"  Shall  I  not  lead  him  ?  " 

"By  no  means,  he  will  follow  and  come  at  a  call  just 
like  a  dog.  Come  Tom,"  and  giving  a  slight  whistle,  the 
horse  immediately  walked  after  the  two  gentlemen. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beauty ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  who 
is  to  ride  that  ?  " 

"Mr.  Herbert  must  answer  that  question,  but  I  have  no 
doubt,  Mrs.  Sandford,  if  you  wish,  he  will  have  no  objec 
tions  to  your  backing  him." 

"  You  have  my  hearty  consent,  I  assure  you  madam." 


LOOKING   AROUND.  189 

"  Papa,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"I  have  nothing  to  say  at  all ;  you  would  not  have*  me 
disappoint  two  gentleman  whom  I  perceive  are  to  be 
mounted,  and  you  in  the  bargain." 

«  What  a  dear,  good  soul  you  are,  but  just  to  think  what 
a  miserable,  selfish  being  I  am !  Eva,  dear,  Eva,  where 
are  you  ?  "  The  young  lady  hearing  her  name  called,  im 
mediately  came  from  the  adjoining  room  whither  she  had 
retired  on  seeing  the  gentlemen  approach  the  house. 

"  Eva,  dear,  would  you  not  enjoy  a  ride  on  horseback  ? 
Here  is  that  beautiful  creature  all  in  readiness ;  come,  do, 
I  know  both  gentlemen  will  be  delighted." 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  your  home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  it  seems  that  Mr.  Herbert  and  Mr.  Roland 
are  on  horseback,  and  this  lady's  horse,  I  presume  the  for 
mer  has  been  purchasing  for  his  sister,  and  they  are  going 
our  way  ;  ypu  will -enjoy  it,  I  know  you  will." 

"  Have  I  been  invited  ?  " 

"They  invited  me  merely  because  I  happened  to  be 
present,  but  you  may  well  suppose  they  would  much  \Jte- 
fer  your  company." 

"  If  thei*e  is  room  for  me  in  the  carriage,  I  should  choose 
to  go  in  that  if  you  are  willing." 

This  conversation  was  carried  on  at  too  great  a  dis 
tance  to  be  heard  by  either  gentlemen.  As  Mrs.  Sandford 
felt  sure  that  Eva's  choice  was  to  go  in  the  carriage,  she 
was  at  once  in  readiness  to  mount,  and  the  little  party 
was  soon  on  its  way. 

Mrs.  Sandford  had  not  as  yet  seen  the  place  which  was 
to  be  her  future  home.  It  had  been  described  to  her  as 
correctly  as  could  well  be  done  by  words,  and  yet  when 
Mr.  Roland  turned  his  horse  up  to  the  gate,  and  the  little 
cavalcade  stopped,  she  could  not  help  exclaiming : 

"  What  a  dear,  good  husband  I  have  got !  he  has  select 
ed  the  very  place  of  all  others  I  could  have  chosen." 

"  I  thought,  since  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  ascertain 
ing  a  little  how  your  taste  runs,  Mrs.  Sandford,  that  you 
would  be  much  pleased,  and  sometimes  I  almost  wonder 
that  those  who  erected  the  buildings  on  ray  place  had  not 
selected  this  location ;  it  is  much  more  airy  and  pictur 
esque." 


190  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  But  does  your  land  extend  so  far  ?  " 

"  That  stone  fence,  madam,  is  the  southern  boundary  of 
my  land,  and  the  northern  boundary  of  yours." 

"  And  those  beautiful  woods  are  yours !  I  must  get 
leave  to  have  the  piivilege  of  a  ramble  there.  What 
splendid  oaks  and  chestnuts ! " 

"  I  give  you  a  carte  blanche,  madam,  not  only  to  those 
but  to  the  whole  domain,  to  ramble  by  foot  or  horseback, 
only  asking  in  return  the  favor  that  you  will  sometimes 
make  a  call  upon  its  lonely  owner." 

"Not  always  to  be  lonely,  I  feel  sure  of  that ;  but  de 
pend  upon  it,  there  will  be  a  path  worn  between  our  two 
houses,  if  my  influence  has  any  power." 

The  carriage  now  drove  up,  and  as  its  inmates  alighted, 
William  Herbert  stepped  up,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  as 
sisting  Eva.  He  held  for  a  moment  the  hand  which  she 
had  given  him,  and  as  they  stepped  a  few  paces  on  one 
side  to  allow  the  others  whom  Mr.  Sandford  was  assisting 
to  debouch,  she  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice, 

"  Can  you  allow  me  a  private  interview  in  some  portion 
of  this  day?" 

If  she  was  ever  beautiful  it  was  at  that  moment — a 
deep  flush  of  rich  blood  gave  life  and  luster  to  her  coun 
tenance.  Her  eye  sparkled,  and  her  lips  trembled  as  she 
replied, 

"  Certainly,  at  any  time  most  convenient  to  yourself." 

The  ready  consent  took  Herbert  by  sui-prise,  and  the 
more  so  as  his  request  seemed,  from  unmistakable  signs, 
to  have  deeply  affected  her.  He  replied, 

"  If  I  am  here  in  the  course  of  an  hour,  will  you  be 
ready  to  accompany  me  in  a  short  walk  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

More  perplexed  than  before  at  this  prompt  reply, —  not 
so  much  by  the  word  of  assent  itself  as  by  the  manner 
and  the  tone  of  voice  —  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  lead 
ing  the  one  Mrs.  Sandford  had  ridden,  departed  for  the 
home  of  his  sisters. 

In  much  less  than  an  hour  he  was  back,  and  found  Eva, 
as  she  had  promised,  in  readiness  for  their  walk. 

A  short  distance  from  Mr.  Sandford's  house  a  lane  ran 
off  from  the  main  road  into  the  fine  woods  already  alluded 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  191 

to,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  entirely  hidden  from 
observation.  The  surface  of  ground  was  in  spots  broken 
by  rocks  through  whose  crevices  in  some  unaccountable 
way  trees  obtruded,  and  some  of  them  of  large  size. 
Where  their  roots  obtained  sustenance  to  support  their 
bulk,  was  equally  unaccountable,  but  it  must  have  been 
far  down  beneath  the  incumbent  masses.  The  rocks,  how 
ever,  in  spots,  afforded  pleasant  seats,  and  he  soon  select 
ed  one  for  that  purpose. 

"  This  is  a  pleasure  I  have  long  desired,"  he  said,  as  he 
was  placing  a  shawl  upon  the  rock  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  lady. 

"I  believe  I  can  honestly  say  the  same  thing,  but  I 
have  supposed  it  would  not  have  been  according  to  the 
rules  of  propriety  that  I  should  have  been  forward  in 
seeking  it.  thave  never,  I  believe,  refused  an  interview 
or  shunned  your  presence." 

•;  No,  Miss  Eva." 

•'  I  wish  you  to  understand,  William,  that  I  have  given 
this  opportunity  to  one  with  whom  I  have  been  on  terms 
of  intimacy  from  childhood,  and  not  to  a  gentleman  who 
feels  it  necessary  to  use  terms  of  common  place  politeness. 
If  I  am  not  Eva,  and  you  William,  our  conference  must 
end  at  once." 

"  Pardon  me,  then.  I  did  not  know,  for  how  could  I,  not 
having  seen  you  for  more  than  three  years,  that  I  should 
be  allowed  the  old  privilege,  and  that  my  old  standing 
could  be  resumed." 

"  It  must  be  on  that  foundation,  if  any,  for  of  late  you 
have  not  offered  me  the  most  distant  chance  to  know  in 
what  relation  we  stood  to  each  other." 

"  You  know  why  that  has  been." 

"  How  could  I  know !  I  know  indeed,  that  my  home, 
where  William  Herbert  was  always  welcomed  with  a  sis 
ter's  joy,  was  broken  up  ;  that  I  was  cast  among  compar 
ative  strangers.  Friends,  to  be  sure  they  were  called,  but 
in  reality  strangers  to  me  —  strangers  to  my  heart  —  with 
with  no  sympathies  in  common  —  with  selfish  ends  con 
tinually  manifesting  themselves  through  all  their  show  of 
attention.  Oh,  how  grateful  it  would  have  been  to  my 
poor,  lone  heart,  to  have  been  able  at  times  to  let  out  its 


>n 


LOOKING   ABOUND. 

feelings  to  one  who  had  once  known  almost  every  thought 
that  passed  it,  or  every  emotion  that  thrilled  it." 

"  Oh,  Eva,  hear  me.  You  almost  distract  me ;  how 
could  I  see  you  ?  Would  you  have  had  me  renounce  all 
my  manliness,  and  venture  into  a  family  where  I  might 
have  been  insulted  ?  " 

"  Insulted  !     By  whom  ?  " 

"  By  Mr.  Blanchard.  He  drove  me  by  insult  from  the 
position  I  held  in  your  father's  store  —  and  I  may  say 
also  from  your  home  after  your  father's  death  ;  and  would 
he  not  have  indulged  the  same  treatment,  had  I  presumed 
to  enter  his  house  ?  " 

"  I  know,  William,  you  have  a  proud,  sensitive  spirit ; 
it  would  not  take  much  to  arouse  it  and  wound  it,  but  had 
the  case  been  reversed,  Eva  Stanley  would  have  braved 
insult  —  would  have  borne  it  rather  than  have  allowed 
William  Herbert  to  feel  that  she  had  forgotten  the  past." 

"  You  know,  too,  Eva,  that  for  these  three  years  past,  I 
have  been  in  a  foreign  land." 

"  Not  so  far  off  but  that  letters  could  find  their  way  to 
friends  at  home." 

"  Did  you  never  receive  one  from  me  ?  " 

"  Never." 

"  On  the  eve  of  my  departure  I  wrote  you  a  long  letter, 
explaining  the  reasons  why  I  had  not  called,  and  saying 
in  it  all  I  could  say  to  assure  you  of  my  friendship,  and 
of  my  readiness  to  aid  you  in  any  way  I  could,  if  you 
would  only  let  me  know  that  you  needed  aid." 

"Aid  was  not  what  I  wanted,  William,  although  I 
thank  you  for  the  offer.  I  can  take  care  for  myself —  but 
that  letter  I  never  received  ;  how  did  you  send  it  ?  " 

"  Through  the  post-office." 

"  You  have  been  in  the  city  some  time,  William,  and 
our  meeting  has  been  purely  accidental.  You  have  neither 
sought  for  me,  and  I  know  not  that  you  have  ever  inquir 
ed  for  me.  In  a  few  days,  as  I  understand,  you  are  again 
to  sail  for  a  foreign  country." 

"  Oh,  Eva,  I  wish  you  would  let  me  tell  you  all  my 
heart  —  all  I  have  suffered  —  but  when  you  acquiesced  in 
my  wish  for  a  private  interview,  you  did  it  in  a  way  that 
assured  me  you  did  not  anticipate  any  thing  beyond  a 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  193 

mere  explanation  by  me  of  the  cause  why  I  have  absent 
ed  myself  from  you,  and  I  will  not  take  advantage  of 
your  kindness  by  urging  a  request  that  may  be  painful  to 
you." 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to  understand  what  that  request 
means,  but  I  tell  you  plainly,  William,  no  such  revelation 
would  now  change  our  relation  to  each  other.  I  am  not  a 
poor,  weak  girl,  or  such  a  poor,  weak  girl  as  many  may 
suppose.  What  I  have  said  in  reference  to  our  former  in 
timacy,  we  both  understand  is  the  reason,  and  the  only 
reason  why  this  interview  has  been  allowed ;  and  for  that 
same  reason  I  have  let  you  know  that  I  once  felt  you  to 
be  a  very  near  friend.  I  have  suffered  much  in  being 
obliged  to  conclude  that  the  band  was  broken  and  the 
past  forgotten.  Tell  me  frankly,  William,  is  it  not  so  ? 
Have  you  not  ti'ied  to  put  my  image  out  of  your  remem 
brance,  and  all  feeling  you  once  had  for  me,  away  from 
your  heart  ?  " 

William  Herbert  was  confounded.  He  knew  that  she 
spoke  the  truth  ;  he  had  endeavored,  as  he  told  his  sister1, 
to  crush  all  interest  in  her  out  of  his  heart.  He  had  not 
that  confidence  in  her  love  for  him,  that  enabled  him  to 
trust  to  its  strength  against  all  the  influences  which  would 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  him.  He  knew  that  when  he 
parted  from  her  she  was  but  a  girl,  of  strong  feelings  and 
an  impulsive  nature.  He  was  deeply  interested  in  her, 
and  felt  quite  sure  that  she  thought  a  great  deal  of  him, 
but  three  years  had  raised  her  into  womanhood,  and  how 
could  he  know  that  it  had  not  changed  all  the  course  of 
her  feelings,  especially  towards  him.  That  his  interviews  on 
board  the  sloop  had  revived  the  scenes  of  the  past,  and 
the  feeling  of  the  past,  he  was  conscious,  although  he  had 
tried  to  make  himself  believe  to  the  contrary.  The  pres 
ent  interview  he  had  asked,  without  clearly  defining  to 
himself  what  end  he  had  in  view ;  most  probably  he 
meant  to  probe  her  heart,  and  find  out  if  he  could,  how 
much  Eva,  the  young  lady,  retained  of  Eva,  the  young 
girl ;  and  possibly  make  a  declaration  of  his  attachment. 
Her  ready  assent  to  his  request — the  business  manner 
she  assumed  —  the  frank  avowal  of  her  former  friendship, 
and  made  by  her  the  basis  of  her  consent  to  a  conference 
9 


194  LOOKING   AROUND. 

—  all  tended  to  debar  him  from  proceeding  a  step  beyond 
the  past.  But  the  question  she  had  now  put  to  him  must 
be  answered,  and  his  only  safe  way  is  to  tell  the  simple 
truth. 

"  You  have  asked  me  a  question,  Eva,  which  I  can  an 
swer  only  in  one  way.  You  are  right ;  I  have  endeavor 
ed  to  forget  the  past,  I  have  tried  to  put  you  out  of  my 
mind  —  but — " 

"  That  is  enough,  William,"  she  quickly  replied,  "  not 
one  word  more,  if  you  please  ;  we  understand  each  other 
now,  and  as  I  presume  that  was  your  object  in  wishing 
this  interview,  let  what  has  been  said,  suffice.  When  do 
you  sail  ?  " 

"  Probably  in  a  week." 

"  You  have  been  successful,  I  hope  —  and  —  are  your 
prospects  good  ?  " 

"  I  have  indeed  a  fair  prospect  of  independence." 

"I  shall  hope  to  enjoy  the  society  of  your  sisters, 
while  I  am  up  here,  at  least.  I  am  so  glad,  for  your  sake, 
that  they  have  been  left  to  you.  Oh,  what  a  blessing  it 
must  be  to  have  somebody  to  love ;  in  whom  you  can 
confide  under  all  circumstances  —  whose  heart  has  become 
one  of  your  own,  no  change  to  fear  —  I  mean  change  of 
affection,  no  possible  reverse  to  weaken  its  power  — 
nothing  but  death  to  dissolve  the  band,  but  even  death 
unable  to  tear  it  from  the  heart.  Shall  we  go  ?  "  and  say 
ing  so  she  arose  from  her  seat. 

"  Oh,  Eva,  I  cannot  part  thus.  Will  you  not  allow  me 
to  make  an  explanation  ?  " 

"  It  could  do  no  good  —  it  could  not  alter  facts  —  we 
had  better  go." 

He  offered  her  his  arm,  which  she  readily  took,  and 
their  conversation  turned  at  once  upon  subjects  of  light 
interest  upon  which  she  talked  freely  and  pleasantly,  and 
they  soon  reached  the  house  of  Mr.  Sandford. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  William,  "I  must  say  good-bye  to  you 
now." 

"  Shall  I  not  see  you  again  ?  "  and  she  gave  him  that  pe 
culiar  look,  which  he  remembered  once  before  encounter 
ing,  and  which  filled  him  with  self  reproach. 

He  took  her  hand,  and  without  reply,  went  on  his  way. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

As  the  little  party  emerged  from  the  carriage,  and  Mr. 
Sandford  came  iip  to  his  wife,  who  was  standing  by  the 
side  of  young  Roland,  earnestly  surveying  the  house  and 
its  surroundings,  she  turned  towards  him  a  look  of  intense 
delight. 

"  You  are  a  dear,  good  husband." 

"  What's  the  matter,  now  ?  "  said  he,  smiling. 

"Just  the  very  place  you  knew  would  please  me." 

"  Glad  if  you  like  it ;  '  rather  plain,'  I  feared  you  would 
say." 

"  Oh,  but  the  trees,  dear  husband !  What  sweet  shades, 
and  what  a  charming  view  in  every  direction.  Don't  you 
think  it  beautiful  ?  "  turning  to  Mr.  Roland. 

"The  prospect,  do  you  mean,  Mrs.  Sandford,  or  the 
house  ? "  (The  house  was  a  plain,  but  good  sized,  and 
substantial  building.) 

"  I  am  not  thinking  about  the  house." 

"  Perhaps,  madam,  that  may  have,  in  the  end,  a  good 
deal  to  do  with  your  enjoyment  of  the  view  from  it.  The 
latter  is  indeed,  very  fair." 

"  Very  fair !  I  almost  fear  you  are  so  accustomed  to 
fine  scenery,  that  you  have  become  obtuse  to  its  charms." 

Mr.  Roland,  somewhat  diverted  by  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  companion,  smiled  as  he  replied : 

"  I  have  learned  that  the  circumstances  within  doors 
have  a  modifying  effect  upon  the  view  from  its  windows. 
A  smoky  chimney,  or  a  leaky  roof,  or  even  a  poor  cup  of 
coffee,  will  sometimes  make  a  material  difference  with  the 
aspect  of  woods  and  mountains,  and  rivers,  too." 

"  Oh,  you  miserable  men  !  dependent  on  physical  com 
forts —  spiritual  enjoyments  but  a  secondary  considera 
tion  !  Oh,  how  I  pity  you ! " 

"  Come,  Caroline,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "  if  you  are  pleas- 


19t>  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

ed  with  the  outside  of  things,  suppose  we  step  in  and  look 
round  there  a  little ;  you  may  not  be  so  well  satisfied." 

But  Caroline  was  in  a  frame  of  mind  to  be  satisfied  with 
every  thing,  and  the  satisfaction  she  manifested  at  the  size 
of  the  rooms,  and  the  disposition  her  husband  had  made 
of  the  various  articles  of  furniture,  was  indeed  a  real 
pleasure  to  him ;  and  then  that  large  willow  tree  i-n  the 
rear  of  the  house  !  "  How  cool  and  refreshing  seemed  its 
extended  shade,  and  how  green  and  inviting  the  velvety 
grass  beneath  it !  " 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  those  chairs,  Caroline  ?  " 
Mrs.  Sandfbrd  had  given  a  hasty  survey  —  had  been 
into  the  kitchen  and  up  stairs  among  the  bedrooms  —  all 
pleased  her,  and  coming  into  the  parlor,  where  her  hus 
band  was  busy  wheeling  the  sofa  to  another  side  of  tho 
room  he  thought  more  appropriate  for  it,  she  caught  up 
two  of  the  chairs,  and  was  conveying  them  off,  when  he 
made  this  exclamation. 

"  I  am  going  to  realize  some  of  my  day-dreams.  Come 
dear  husband,  and  take  a  seat  beside  me." 

"  Is  not  this  all  our  hearts  can  desire  ?  "  she  said,  as  Mr. 
Sandford  took  the  seat  she  had  prepared  for  him. 

"  It  is  very  pleasant,  certainly,  and  the  more  so  to  me, 
as  it  seems  to  satisfy  you." 

"  I  should  be  very  um-easonable  not  to  be  satisfied,  when 
I  know  you  have  done  your  best  to  please,  even  if  it  did 
not  meet  my  expectations,  but  it  is  far,  far  better  than  I 
ever  fancied." 

"  Why  does  not  Eva  come  out  ?  Where  does  she  keep 
herself?  " 

"  I  fear  Eva,  dear  husband,  is  not  happy.  I  wonder  how 
matters  stand  between  her  and  young  Herbert.  You  know 
they  have  had  a  walk  together.  I  fear  it  has  not  been  sat 
isfactory  to  her,  or  to  him  either,  for  I  saw  when  they 
parted,  he  looked  very,  very  sad,  and  she,  I  know,  has  been 
weeping  since." 

"Do  you  think  they  are  fond  of  each  other  ?  " 
"  I  think  they  have  been,  but  there  is  some  misunder 
standing  that  disturbs  them  both  now,  and  it  is  very  un 
fortunate,  for  he  is  going  away  to  be  gone  for  years,  and 
she  has  got  to  be  subject  to  the  influence  and  designs  of 
that  Blanchard." 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  197 

"  I  should  think  from  the  manner  in  which  she  treated 
his  veto  yesterday,  his  influence  has  no  power  over  her." 

"  Yes,  but  my  dear  husband,  he  is,  I  think,  a  very  artful 
man,  and  a  continual  dropping  will  wear  away  a  stone, 
you  know  ;  there,  she  will  be  under  his  own  roof,  compar 
atively  alone.  He  can  make  himself  agreeable  when  he 
wishes.  My  only  hope  is,  that  Eva  has  sense  enough  to 
see  through  him,  and  heart  enough  to  spurn  all  his  advan 
ces  ;  but  still  it  is  a  dangerous  situation  for  a  young  girl 
to  be  placed  in.  But  here  comes  Mr.  Roland." 

"  Well,  madam,"  said  Roland,  as  he  entered  the  yard,  "  I 
see  you  are  trying  the  experiment  of  sitting  under  your 
own  vine." 

"  Yes,  we  are,  and  here  you  see  is  a  seat  for  you." 
"For  me  !  well,  I  must  say  it  is  a  very  pleasant  shade, 
and  rather  grateful,  just  now  —  it  is  going  to  be  a  warm 
day.  I  suppose,  Mr.  Sandford,  you  do  not  yet  take  upon 
you  the  responsibility  of  matters  here,  not  until  you  have 
had  your  holiday." 

"  Well,  no  sir,  not  until  I  learn  a  little  what  is  needed 
and  what  directions  to  give.  I  leave  every  thing  at  pre 
sent  to  the  care  of  Mr.  Bradford." 

"  Bradford  is  a  fine  fellow.     You  will  think  much  of 
him,  Mrs.   Sandford,  when   you  come  to  know  him.     I 
think  he  takes  the  poetical  view  of  things." 
"  Indeed  !  and  a  laboring  man,  too  ?  " 
"Yes,  madam,  one  of  our  most  industrious,  hard  work 
ing  men.     His  romantic  ideas,  however,  I  believe,  do  not 
run  in  the  vein  of  sitting  under  the  shadow  of  vines,  or 
living  upon  wide  piazzas." 

"  Only  in  summer,  I  said,"  replied  Mrs.  Sandford,  with 
a  hearty  laugh,  "  but  I  fear  you  have  too  good  a  memory." 
"  It  is  a  good  memory,  I  suppose,  that  keeps  hold  of  the 
sayings  and  doings  of  those  we  feel  respect  for." 

"  If  it  does  not  treasure  them  up  as  witnesses  against 
them." 

"  Mr.  Bradford  is  poetical  in  his  friendship.  He  is  the 
youngest  brother  of  quite  a  large  family.  His  two  sisters 
have  married,  and  two  of  his  brothers,  and  he  has  two  un 
married  brothers.  They  all  had  their  share  of  the  prop 
erty  which  their  father  left,  equally  divided.  For  his  por- 


198  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

tion,  he  chose  the  farm  and  homestead,  and  as  none  of 
them  cared  to  remain  in  the  country,  they  were  very  will 
ing  he  should  take  it.  He  was  not  brought  up  to  work 
any  more  than  the  rest.  Their  father  owned  quite  an  es 
tate,  and  the  boys,  most  of  them,  preferred  going  into 
business,  and  the  old  gentleman  sold  off  one  farm  after 
another,  to  supply  each  of  them  with  capital,  as  they  be 
came  of  age.  Lucius  had  remained  at  home,  being  the 
youngest,  and  superintended  matters,  as  the  old  gentleman 
became  unable  to  do  so.  They  had  been  well  brought  up, 
that  is,  they  were  affectionate  to  each  other,  and  were  dis 
tinguished  always  as  a  harmonious  family.  When  the  old 
gentleman  was  about  to  make  his  will,  he  called  them  all 
together,  and  made  known  to  them  what  he  designed  to 
leave  to  each,  and  had  them  all  express  their  wishes  in 
reference  to  the  old  place  —  whether  any  of  them  partic 
ularly  desired  it  and  were  willing  to  take  it  as  a  portion. 
The  older  ones  preferred  money  to  real  estate,  and  thought 
as  they  were  all  either  settled  in  business,  or  clerks  in 
the  city,  and  should  probably  never  wish  to  live  there, 
that  it  had  better  be  sold.  Lucius  had  not  yet  been  asked. 
When  his  turn  came,  he  said,  "that  if  he  could  have  his 
choice,  he  should  prefer  to  keep  the  homestead  and  farm 
attached ;  its  value  might  be  assessed,  and  if  it  was  worth 
more  than  his  share,  a  mortgage  might  be  placed  upon  it. 
He  did  not  wish  more  than  the  rest  had.  The  brothers 
and  sisters,  however,  seemed  united  in  the  feeling,  that  as 
he  had  remained  at  home,  and  would  continue  to  remain, 
the  whole  ought  to  go  to  him.  The  value  of  the  estate 
was  probably  eight  thousand  dollars,  which  was  about  the 
sum  which  the  others  would  each  receive  for  their  share. 

"  I  was  quite  intimate  with  him,  for  we  are  of  the  same 
age.  One  day,  in  conversing  with  him  on  the  situation  of 
his  brothers  and  sisters,  he  remarked : 

" '  They  seem  to  be  all  doing  well,  and  I  believe  are 
making  money,' but,  said  he,  'they  are  all  living  in  the 
city,  and  living  as  yet  in  hired  houses,  which,  you  know, 
cannot  seem  much  like  home.  They  will  live  in  one  per 
haps  a  year,  and  then  hire  another  and  move  to  that;  they 
are  all  young  yet,  and  I  know  must  feel  a  longing  at  times 
to  come  up  and  see  the  old  place  where  we  were  all  born 


LOOKING    AROUND.  199 

and  brought  up ;  and  supposing  it  had  been  sold !  there 
would  not  have  been  one  spot  on  earth  towards  which 
their  affections  could  center  —  which  they  could  look  to  as 
home.' " 

"  What  a  beautiful  idea ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sandford. 
"  Sure  enough,  there  would  have  been  no  rallying  place 
for  their  hearts  —  that  is,  as  brothers  and  sisters  —  and  he 
meant  to  make  them  feel  that  it  was  to  be  truly  such." 

"  That  was  one  of  his  objects,  madam,  but  perhaps  not 
the  main  one  ;  he  has  used  every  means  to  make  them  feel 
that  it  is  as  free  to  them  as  ever,  and  sometimes  he  gets 
them  all  together  under  the  old  roof,  and  then  seems  per 
fectly  happy.  He  keeps  things  snug,  and  in  the  same  con 
dition  as  when  their  parents  were  living,  and  will  not  al 
low  a  tree  or  shrub  to  be  cut  down  or  removed ;  every 
thing  in  the  house  must  remain  just  as  it  was.  And  yet 
beyond  this,  he  had  an  ulterior  end  in  view  which  borders 
a  little  more  on  the  romantic,  considering  that  he  is  the 
youngest  of  the  family,  than  what  I  have  already  told  you. 
Said  he  to  me,  *  my  brothers,  I  know,  seem  to  be  doing 
well,  but  business  in  the  city  is  precarious ;  times  change 
there  very  suddenly.  They  may  some  of  them  get  into 
difficulties  —  may  fail  and  be  broken  up,  what  are  they 
then  to  do  ?  No  father's  home  to  go  to !  —  living  in  the 
city  expensive !  Now  I  mean  to  make  this  a  refuge  for 
them.  There  shall  be  one  bright  spot  they  can  turn  their 
eyes  to  —  one  shelter  where  they  can  run  to  when  storms 
overtake  them  —  one  table  that  shall  be  spread  for  as 
many  of  them  as  can  get  round  it." 

"  Oh,  the  noble  fellow !  "  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  her  bright 
eyes  glistening  with  the  starting  tear. 

"And  has  his  liberality  ever  been  tested?"  said  Mr. 
Sandford. 

"  It  has,  indeed,  sir.  Two  years  after  the  death  of  their 
father  the  elder  brother  failed.  Lucius  heard  of  it,  and 
off  he  started.  He  found  him  and  his  wife  in  great  trou 
ble.  He  did  all  he  could  to  help  them,  but  his  supply  of 
money  was  not  large.  He  could  not  reinstate  things,  for 
the  failure  was  for  a  large  amount,  but  he  paid  off  some 
private  bills  —  such  as  the  family  had  incurred  —  and  then 
brought  the  whole  concern  home  with  him,  the  wife  and 


200  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

the  wife's  sister,  who  was  then  dependent  upon  his  broth 
er,  and  three  children,  and  a  servant  to  wait  upon  them, 
as  the  wife  was  in  feeble  health,  and  when  he  got  them 
here,  he  seemed  to  me,  perfectly  happy.  His  whole  effort 
was  to. make  them  feel  at  home,  and  that  the  whole  thing 
was  a  pleasure  excursion,  and  as  much  for  his  comfort  as 
theirs.  And  I  truly  believe,  if  he  could  not  have  brought 
them  back  with  him,  and  thus  have  relieved  his  brother 
of  the  care  and  expense  necessarily  connected  with  the 
then'  state  of  affairs,  he  would  have  been  very  sad  in 
deed." 

"And  are  they  there,  still?  "  asked  Mrs.  Sandford. 

"  Oh,  no,  madam ;  they  remained  there  nearly  a  year. 
His  brother's  affairs  were  compromised,  and  he  was  able 
to  go  on  again ;  but  the  real  aid  he  afforded  in  the  time 
of  their  need,  the  weight  of  care,  and  the  burden  of  ex 
pense  of  which  he  relieved  his  brother,  was  a  great  mat 
ter  ;  great  in  many  ways,  for  it  enabled  the  brother  to  turn 
his  whole  attention  to  the  settling  up  of  his  affairs,  and  to 
offer  his  furniture  to  his  creditors,  and  to  let  the  house  he 
had  hired.  The  creditors  would  not  take  his  furniture, 
and  no  doubt  settled  with  him  more  readily,  because 
they  saw  that  he  was  not  living  at  their  expense  ;  but  it 
has  opened  a  place  for  him  in  that  brother's  laeart,  and  in 
that  of  his  wife,  too,  that  I  can  imagine  of  more  value, 
than  all  the  mere  material  interests  that  have  been  af 
fected." 

"  And  he  has  opened  a  place  in  my  heart,  too,"  said  Mrs. 
Sandford,  "  I  shall  feel  proud  to  know  him." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "  that  he  has  lately 
lost  money  by  some  of  his  friends." 

"  He  has  so,  sir.  Some  months  since,  the  husband  of 
one  of  his  sisters,  died.  He  had  not  been  prosperous  in 
business ;  he  was  by  no  means  a  thrifty  man,  and  not  even 
honest.  A  few  months  before  he  died,  Lucius  received  a 
letter  from  his  sister,  asking  him  to  come  immediately  to 
the  city,  for  they  were  in  trouble.  He  went,  of  course  at 
once,  and  found  that  his  brother-in-law  was  in  danger  of 
having  a  criminal  prosecution  commenced  against  him,  for 
some  underhand  way  in  which  he  had  attained  money, 
amounting  to  two  thousand  dollars.  Lucius  borrowed 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  201 

the  money  on  his  own  responsibility,  paid  the  obligation, 
brought  his  sister  and  her  two  children  home  with  him, 
and  got  the  husband  off  to  some  foreign  countiy,  to  try 
and  make  a  living  where  he  was  not  known,  and  there  he 
died.  But  I  must  ask  of  you,  as  a  particular  favor,  not  to 
let  a  word  escape  your  lips  in  reference  to  this  matter,  for 
in  fact,  the  sister  does  not  know  that  her  husband  was  in 
danger  of  prosecution  as  a  felon,  and  no  one  but  her 
brothers  know  the  .whole  truth  about  the  matter.  It  has 
cost  him  more  than  two  thousand  dollars  to  accomplish 
the  whole  thing.  He  told  me2  for  he  has  always  made  me 
his  confidant,  and  I  have  told  you  for  the  reason  that,  as 
you  are  to  be  neighbors,  and  will  no  doubt  be  at  times 
brought  into  somewhat  jntimate  relations  with  him,  you 
may  know  something  of  his  character ;  and  I  believe  you 
can  appreciate  his  motives  for  keeping  the^matter  secret." 

"We  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  i*  for  the  confidence 
reposed  in  us ;  it  shall  not  be  abused,  depend  upon  that." 

"  There  must  be  something  more  than  a  poetical  turn  of 
mind,"  Mrs.  Sandford  interposed,  "  that  has  led  to  such 
poetical  results.  He  must  be  a  Christian." 

Mr.  Roland  made  no  reply. 

"  I  mean,"  she  continued,  "  a  Christian  not  merely  in 
name.  He  has  manifested  the  true  spirit  of  our  Master, 
do  you  not  think  so  ?  " 

"  He  is  very  fond  of  his  friends,  and  like  every  true  man 
who  values  friendship,  is  ready  to  make  sacrifices  for  it  in 
the  hour  of  need  —  but  suppose  we  take  a  Avalk  into  your 
garden.  I  have  taken  the  liberty,  Mr.  Sandford,  of  setting 
my  man  to  work  there,  in  cutting  up  the  weeds,  as  I  per 
ceive  there  will  be  no  occasion  for  his  services  in  the 
house.  Mr.  Bradford  has  done  something  about  planting 
it  with  vegetables,  but  of  course  has  not  had  time  to  keep 
things  in  proper  trim." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,  you  are  very  kind.     The 
fact  is,  my  wife  enticed  me  here,  in  order  to  realize  some  . 
of  her  beautiful  visions,  and  between  her  flights  of  fancy, 
and  your  entertaining  history  of  that  young  man,  I  have 
iorgotten  most  every  thing  else." 

"  Now  just  hear  him,  Mr.  Roland !  is  not  that  a  pretty 
9* 


202  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

way  to  reward  us  for  doing  what  we  could  to  make  his 
holiday  pleasant  ?  " 

Mrs.  Sandford  now  left  the  gentlemen  for  the  purpose 
of  seeking  for  Eva.  She  found  her  seated  in  one  of  the 
upper  rooms,  rocking  herself  in  a  large  arm  chair,  and 
looking  pale  and  agitated.  Mrs.  Sandford  took  her  hand 
as  she  placed  a  seat  beside  her. 

"  Dear  Eva,  I  fear  you  are  not  happy." 

"  It  is  most  unfortunate  for  me  that  I  did  not  go  on  in 
the  boat.  I  am  sorry  that  I  landed."  She  spoke  in  brok 
en  tones,  and  the  big  tears  were  coursing  down  her  lovely 
face. 

"  Can  you  not,  dear  Eva,  confide  in  me  enough  to  let 
me  know  the  cause  of  your  trouble.  My  husband  and 
myself  are  ready  to  do  anything  for  your  comfort.  Can 
you  not  trust  us  as  friends  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  but  friends  can  do  nothing  in  my  case.  I  am 
most  unfortunate,  and  it  seems  my  destiny  to  make  others 
unhappy,  too." 

"  Not  your  destiny,  dear.  You  may  be  unfortunate,  as 
all  of  us  are  at  times,  in  doing  or  saying  what  may  grieve 
our  friends,  but  do  tell  me,  has  your  trouble  arisen  out  of 
your  interview  with  Mr.  Herbert,  this  morning  ?  " 

"  It  has.  I  have  been  much  to  blame  —  I  see  and  feel  it 
now —  my  pride  has  made  us  both  wretched." 

And  then  Eva,  in  a  straight  forward  way,  related  all  that 
had  transpired  between  her  and  William  Herbert  that 
morning. 

Mrs.  Sandford  was  silent  a  few  moments,  reflecting  on 
the  difficulties  of  the  case.  Here  were  two  young  hearts, 
bound  to  each  other  by  a  strong  affection,  but  an  unfortu 
nate  circumstance  had  aroused  their  natural  pride,  and 
placed  an  obstacle,  almost  insurmountable,  in  the  way  of 
their  union.  William  had  been  shut  out  from  further  ad 
vances,  and  Eva  could  not  consistently  open  the  door 
again. 

At  length  Mrs.  Sandford  said  : 

"  I  think,  dear  Eva,  that  much  of  the  difficulty  which  so 
often  arises  between  hearts  that  truly  love,  springs  from  a 
wrong  idea  of  true  delicacy.  It  seems  to  me,  situated  as 
you  and  Mr.  Herbert  have  been  —  with  such  an  opportu- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  203 

nity  for  knowing  each  others  peculiarities  —  some  forbear 
ance  was  required,  and  a  good  deal  of  confidence.  You 
believe  he  loves  you  still,  and  you  are  free  to  confess  that 
you  love  him  ?  " 

"If  I  thought  he  did  not  love  me,  dear  Mrs.  Sandford, 
I  should  not  suffer  as  I  now  do.  •  I  feel  assured  he  loves 
me.  I  believed  it  at  the  time  when  I  refused  to  listen  to 
any  explanation.  And  now  he  is  about  to  go  on  a  long 
voyage,  to  be  absent  for  years,  probably,  for  a  few  years 
make  great  changes  —  we  shall  never  meet  again,  and  he 
will  carry  away  with  him  the  idea  that  I  have  a  cold,  proud, 
calculating  heart,  ready  to  inflict  bitter  suffering  on  an  old 
friend,  in  order  to  gratify  "  — 

But  she  could  say  no  more ;  her  proud  spirit  had  to 
yield  —  she  gave  way  to  a  full  burst  of  tears. 

"  Eva,  dear  Eva,  this  must  not  be ;  you  and  Mr.  Her 
bert  must  not  part  thus.  Let  me  see  him." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !  death  would  be  better  than  such  hu 
miliation." 

"  Give  him  then  some  chance  of  explanation." 

"  I  do  not  need  any  explanation ;  the  look  he  gave  me 
when  we  parted,  was  explanation  enough." 

"  Are  you  willing,  then,  under  such  circumstances,  to  let 
him  depart,  without  one  token  of  your  interest  in  him  ? 
Think  what  it  would  be  to  him  when  far  off  in  a  strange 
land,  to  have  the  consciousness  that  he  was  loved  by  one 
on  whom  his  own  affections  were  placed." 

"  What  would  you  do,  Mrs.  Sandford,  after  a  gentleman 
acknowledged  to  you  '  that  he  had  tried  to  put  you  out  of 
his  thoughts !  to  expel  you  from  his  heart ! ' ' 

"  But  he  did  not  say,  nor  do  you  believe,  that  he  had 
succeeded  in  any  such  endeavor.  He  had  reasons  which 
he  thought  demanded  such  an  effort  on  his  part,  and  I 
must  say,  dear  Eva,  I  do  not  view  his  conduct  as  you  have 
done.  You  would  not  have  had  him  renounce  his  man 
hood,  and  throw  himself  in  the  way  of  insult,  where  he 
could  neither  resent  it,  nor  very  well  hear  it,  without  feel 
ing  abased  in  the  very  presence  perhaps,  of  the  one  before 
whom  of  all  others,  he  would  wish  to  act  the  man.  De 
pend  upon  it,  Herbert  has  a  spirit  you  might  well  be  proud 
to  submit  to." 


204  >         LOOKING  ABOUND. 

"  I  know  it ;  I  believe  him  to  be  the  noblest  and  best  of 
men." 

This  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  a  knock  at 
the  room  door.  Mrs.  Sandford  opened  the  door,  and  see 
ing  her  husband,  stepped  into  the  entry  and  closed  the 
door  after  her. 

"  Blanchard  has  come  for  Eva." 

"  Why  has  he  come  so  soon  ?  " 

"  That  question  he  must  answer  himself." 

"  But  you  know  we  were  to  take  her  home  in  a  few 
days.  I  do  not  believe  she  will  go  with  him." 

".Then  she  had  better  tell  him  so ;  he  seems  in  quite  a 
different  mood  to  day  —  as  pleasant  as  possible.  It  is  very 
likely  he  will  do  as  she  says." 

"  I  do  not  believe  it,  dear  husband,  and  you  will  see  if 
it  is  not  as  I  say ;  but  let  him  wait  a  few  moments,  Eva 
cannot  go  down  just  yet." 

"  Let  her  come  as  soon  as.^she  can,  then." 

"  What  do  you  say,  dear  Eva,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  as 
she  again  entered  the  room,  "  Mi*.  Blanchard  has  come  for 
you  —  do  you  think  you  had  better  go  ?  " 

Eva  was  taken  by  surprise.  She  could  not  for  a  mo 
ment  make  any  reply.  She  inwardly  hoped  that  in  some 
way  an  opportunity  might  be  afforded  for  another  inter 
view  with  William  Herbert.  She  was  also  astonished  that 
Mr.  Blanchard  should  have  hastened  so  unnecessarily  to 
take  her  to  his  home,  but  as  he  had  taken  the  trouble  to 
come,  it  might  be  best  on  many  accounts,  that  she  should 
go ;  she  therefore  replied : 

"  I  feel  as  though  it  would  be  best,  although  the  idea  of 
going,  certainly  is  not  very  agreeable ;  but  perhaps  the 
eooner  I  get  away  from  this  place  the  better  for  me  and 
others.  Yes,  Mrs.  Sandford,  I  think  on  the  whole  I  had 
better  go." 

Eva  at  once  made  efforts  to  erase  all  traces  of  the  emo 
tion  she  had  yielded  to,  and  was  soon  ready  to  accompa 
ny  Mrs.  Sandford  to  the  parlor  below.  Mr.  Blanchard 
met  her  in  quite  a  joyous  mood.  He  had  arrayed  him 
self  in  much  more  than  usual  style,  and  seemed  particu 
larly  amiable. 

"  Well,  miss,"  he  said,  as  he  stepped  with  quite  a  youth- 


LOOKING   AROUND.  205 

ful  air  up  to  meet  her,  "  you  see  how  necessary  you  are  to 
my  —  to  our  happiness.  Aunt  Jemima  would  start  me 
off  as  soon  as  I  had  reached  the  house,  (this  was  not  true,) 
she  said  it  would  not  seem  like  home  till  you  got  there." 

Eva  made  no  reply  to  all  this,  further  than  to  say,  "  that 
she  was  ready  whenever  he  would  be  so." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Sandford,"  said  Eva,  turning  to  that  lady, 
"I  must  see  that  kind  gentleman,  Mr.  Roland,  to  acknowl 
edge,  at  least,  his  hospitality." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  "  I  will  let  him 
know  that  you  are  going." 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Roland  entered,  and  at  once 
stepped  up  to  Miss  Eva. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  learn,  Miss  Stanley,  that  you  think  of 
leaving  us  so  soon.  I  had  hoped  to  enjoy  one  good, 
long,  pleasant  evening  on  our  piazza,  which  Mrs.  Sandford 
admires  so  much,"  and  he  turned  smiling  towards  that 
lady.  *<  The  Misses  Herbert,  too,  with  their  brother,  are 
to  be  with  us  —  as  you  no  doubt  know  he  takes  the  boat 
to-night  from  our  landing." 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  you  could  stay,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sand- 
ford,  « it  will  be  such  a  delightful  gathering ;  Mr.  Blanch- 
ard,  must  Eva  go  ?  " 

Mr.  Blanchard  did  not  reply.  He  either  did  not  hear 
the  question,  or  was  too  much  excited  just  then,  to  say 
any  thing,  for  Mr.  Sandford  had  at  that  moment  come  into 
the  room,  and  handed  a  neatly  folded  note  to  Eva.  Her 
first  question  to  Mr.  Sandford,  was : 

"Is  he  here?" 

"  In  the  north  parlor." 

Eva  at  once  left  the  room,  and  Mr.  Sandford  took  a 
seat  by  his  guest,  that  he  might  do  something  to  divert 
him,  for  he  appeared  beside  himself.  Mrs.  Sandford  had 
left  when  Eva  did— she  must  say  something,  for  she 
well  knew  that  she  was  about  to  see  Mr.  Herbert ;  and 
Mr.  Roland  walked  out  under  the  willow,  to  regale  him 
self  with  the  fresh  breeze. 

"  What  does  all  this  mean,  Sandford  ?  " 

"  All  what !   what  do  you  refer  to  ?  " 

"  Refer  to  !  why  —  why  —  what  made  Eva  turn  so  red 
when  you  handed  her  that  note  !  who  was  it  from  ?  " 


206  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

"  I  did  not  see  the  signature." 

"  But  who  is  it  she  has  gone  to  see  ?  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  call  her  back." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  not  attempt  it ;  if  you  will  take 
my  advice,  you  will  let  young  girls  manage  their  own  love 
matters." 

"  Love  matters !  love  matters  !  I  shall  stop  it  at  once, 
stop  it  at  once ;  how  dare  any  one !  it  must,  it  must  be 
stopped  —  it  shall  be  stopped  ! "  and  in  a  violent  mood, 
he  at  once  arose  and  was  going  into  the  hall. 

"  Blanchard,  Blanchard,  what  ails  you  ?  where  are  you 
going?" 

"  To  find  Eva,  to  be  sure  !  she  must  go  home  with  me 
at  once." 

"  Stop,  stop,  Blanchard,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  make  a  fool 
of  yourself;  you  must  not  leave  this  room  with  any  such 
intent.  Remember  she  is  a  young  lady  ;  you  would  not 
wish  to  insult  her." 

"Insult  her!  It's  me  that's  insulted  —  me,  her  lawful 
guardian  —  it  is  me,  sir,  and  I  will  not  allow  any  one  to 
usurp  my  rights." 

"Blanchard,  come,  come  back.  I  cannot  allow  any 
such  doings  in  my  house.  You  shall  not  disturb  her,  so 
take  a  seat  now  and  be  easy." 

But  Mr.  Blanchard  had  too  far  lost  the  equipoise  of  his 
mind  just  then,  to  listen  to  reason  ;  and  it  was  only  by 
bracing  himself  against  the  door,  that  Mr.  Sandford  could 
prevent  him  from  putting  his  threat  into  execution.  This 
added  fuel  to  his  rage,  and  with  almost  the  look  of  a  de 
mon,  he  broke  forth  on  Mr.  Sandford. 

"  And  it  was  for  this,  sir,  you  enticed  her  to  land  here  ! 
It  was  a  trick,  all  a  trick ;  I  knew  it  at  the  time,  and  I'll 
have  you  all  prosecuted  for  conspiracy.  I  am  her  lawful 
guardian,  and  "  — 

"  Blanchard,  I  tell  you  at  once  what  I  shall  do,  if  you 
do  not  stop  your  abuse,  and  take  a  seat  and  behave  de 
cently.  Esquire  Roland,  that  young  gentleman  you  saw 
here  a  few  moments  ago,  is  a  Justice  of  the  Peace ;  he  is 
in  my  house,  and  I  shall  have  you  taken  up  as  a  disturber 
of  the  peace.  And  now  I  tell  you  plainly,  Miss  Stanley 
is  a  young  lady  old  enough,  and  with  sense  enough,  to 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  207 

judge  for  herself,  and  she  has  too  many  friends  to  allow 
of  any  insult  to  her,  with  impunity.  You  had  better  take 
your  seat  now,  and  try  to  calm  yourself." 

"  And  allow  my  niece,  who  has  been  placed  by  her  own 
father  under  my  care,  to  be  shut  up  in  a  room  with  some 
young  scapegrace,  and  perhaps  about  to  run  away  with 
him  f" 

"If  she  were  your  daughter  instead  of  your  niece,  as 
you  call  her,  what  could  you  do  ?  You  forget  that  this  is 
a  free  country.  Girls  have  liberty  as  well  as  men,  but  as 
you  are  neither  her  father  nor  her  uncle,  and  can  only 
have  power  over  her,  by  exerting  influence  in  a  mild  and 
reasonable  way,  you  are  doing  the  very  thing  to  make  her 
run  away,  or  to  place  herself  beyond  your  control.  You 
know,  Blanchard,  that  by  the  terms  of  her  father's  will, 
she  can  at  any  time  choose  another  guardian." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  I  understand  that  to  be  the  reading  of  the  will." 

«  Did  Eva  tell  you  so  ?  " 

Blanchard  had  by  this  time  walked  away  from  the  door 
and  had  been  moving  to  and  fro  across  the  room.  On 
asking  this  last  question,  he  resumed  his  seat.  Mr.  Sand- 
ford  noticed  that  he  turned  suddenly  pale,  and  seemed 
much  agitated. 

"  Eva  did  not  herself  tell  me  so,  but  I  am  very  certain 
that  she  thus  understands  it.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

As  Blanchard  did  not  reply,  Mr.  Sandford  continued. 

"  Now,  Blanchard,  I  am  not  as  old  as  you,  and  you  have 
seen  more  of  the  world  than  I  have ; "  Blanchard  colored 
a  little,  and  straightened  himself  up,  "  but  I  can  tell  you, 
if  you  wish  to  retain  any  influence  over  that  young  lady, 
you  must  change  your  course  towards  her  entirely.  She 
is  not  of  a  temper  quietly  to  submit  to  any  compulsion. 
She  has  never  been  used  to  it,  and  however  submissive 
she  may  have  been  under  your  care,  while  passing  from 
the  girl  into  the  woman,  depend  upon  it,  any  rigor  ex 
ercised,  or  any  meddling  with  her  rights  as  a  lady,  will 
cause  her  to  throw  off  all  control  you  could  possibly  have 
over  her." 

Blanchard  began  to  cool  down.  He  knew  that  much 
depended  upon  his  being  able  to  retain  a  hold  on  Eva, 


208  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

and  should  she,  as  Mr.  Sandford  had  intimated,  throw  off 
his  control,  and  choose  another  manager,  he  would  be  in 
trouble  of  no  ordinary  kind  !     In  fact,  the  rage  he  mani 
fested,  when  Mr.  Sandford  suggested  the  idea  that  Eva 
was  closeted  with  a  lover,  was  caused  as  much  by  fear,  as 
by  jealousy  —  for  it  may   as   well  be  said  at  once,  Mr. 
Blanchard  was  earnestly  endeavoring  to  g~ain  her  hand, 
and  for  reasons  of  the  last  importance  to  him.     She  had 
refused  his  son  most  decidedly,  that  he  knew — and  was. 
not  sorry  for  it  —  but  his  self-complacency   led  him  to 
believe  that  such  a  result  would  not  attend  his  own  ex 
periment.     He   knew  that  his  personal   appeara'nce  was 
commanding.     He  was  called  a  handsome  man.     Age  had 
not,  he  believed,  made  any  mai-k  upon  him  that  a  young 
lady  would  notice.     Then  his  standing  as  a  man  of  prop 
erty,  reputed  to  be  wealthy,  that  was  an   additional   item, 
which  he  counted  much  upon,  for  although  Eva  had  "  some 
property,"  —  Mr.   Blanchaixl  always  spoke  of  it  that  way 
—  "  some  property,"  —  "  some  little  property?  he  some 
times  said ;  yet  he  believed  women  in  general  loved  mon 
ey,  or  loved  show,  and  his  wealth  would  be   an   induce 
ment,   which  his  son,  of  course,  had  not  to  offer.     The 
only  thing  which  Mr.  Blanchard  had  feared,  was  the  in 
terference  or  opposition  of  his  two  daughters  —  one  of 
them  a  year  older  than  Eva,  and  the  other  a  year  young 
er.     They  might  not  fancy  a  mother  put   over  them  of 
their  own  age,  and  his  great  desire  of  late  had  been,  that 
they  might  be  profitably  married,  and  he  had  great  hopes 
that  the  elder  one,  at  least,  was  in  a  fair  way  to  that   end. 
They  were  both  of  them  in  New  York,  at  present,  not 
caring  to  spend  the  summer  in  the  country.     They   were 
boarding  at  a  relative's,  and  Mr.  Blanchard  was  quite  hap 
py  in  the  prospect  of  having  a  quiet  time  with  Eva.     She 
preferred  the  country,  and  as  her  old  nurse   accompanied 
her,  felt  no  reluctance  in  going  to  Mr.  Blanchard's  coun 
try  seat,  even  without  her  usual  companions,  his  daugh 
ters  ;  in  fact,  was  not  sorry  to  be  relieved  of  their  pres 
ence.     She  got  along  peaceably  with  them,  but  it  had 
been  by  the  exercise  of  forbearance  on   her  part ;  their 
tastes  were  dissimilar,  and  the  company  they  selected  not 
such  as  Eva  enjoyed.    Mr.  Blanchard  had  therefore  been 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  209 

calculating  much  upon  the  advance  he  could  make  in 
gaining  the  object  of  his  desire  —  upon  pleasant  rides  in 
his  carriage,  with  Eva  by  his  side,  and  pleasant  tete-a- 
tetes  on  rainy  days,  or  warm  summer  evenings  —  it  was 
to  be  a  very  good  time  indeed,  as  Mr.  Blanchard  had  pic 
tured  it,  and  the  reader  will  now  be  able  to  comprehend 
the  cause  for  Mr.  Blanchard's  excitement  under  present 
circumstances,  and  make  allowances  for  poor,  human  na 
ture,  when  sorely  tried,  and  also  to  appreciate  the  answer 
which  Mr.  Blanchard  made  to  the  reasoning  of  his  com 
panion.  '/ 

"  I  only  wish  to  control  her  for  her  own  good." 

"  That  may  be,  but  Avomen  at  her  age  are  very  apt  to 
feel  that  they  are  the  best  judges  of  what  is  for  their 
good ;  you  must  know  that  they  are  more  led  by  their 
hearts  than  their  heads." 

"  Therefore  the  more  necessary  that  they  should  be 
under  proper  care.  Now,  in  this  case,  it  seems  to  me 
highly  improper  that  she,  a  young  girl  without  experi 
ence,  and  without  any  acquaintance  with  men  —  by  the 
way,  who  is  the  gentleman  ?  you  must  know  —  it  must 
be  some  acqxiaintance  she  has  made  here." 

"  I  suppose  I  can  give  a  good  guess,  although,  as  I  told 
you,  I  did  not  see  the  signature  to  the  note.  It  is  an  old 
friend,  the  gentleman  we  took  on  board  the  sloop  in  that 
storm." 

"  Not  young  Herbert !  " 

"I  presume  it  is  he,  and  you  can  understand  now,  Mr. 
Blanchard,  what  an  unfortunate  thing  rt  would  have  been 
for  you  to  have  interrupted  their  interview.  Any  slight 
or  disrespect  shown  to  that  young  man,  would  have  so 
offended  her,  that  I  do  not  believe  she  would  ever  have 
been  induced  again  to  enter  your  house.  You  must  act 
with  caution  in  dealing  with  women — you  must  feel  as 
if  yon  were  handling  glass  ware." 

"  How  came  he  here  ?  1  thought  he  landed  some  miles 
down  the  river."  Mr.  Blanchard  spoke  now  in  not  only 
a  mild  manner,  but  his  voice  was  quite  husky ;  he  was  un 
der  greater  excitement  than  he  had  been  yet,  but  he  had 
to  restrain  his  feelings ;  he  saw  clearly  that  he  must  move 
with  caution. 


210  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"His  sisters  are  at  board  in  this  neighborhood,  and  they 
all  came  up  hei-e  last  evening.  He  leaves  to-night  for 
New  York,  and  in  a  few  weeks  for  South  America,  and  of 
course  it  is  very  natural  that  Miss  Eva  should  wish  to  see 
one  who  was,  as  you  know,  once  so  intimate  with  her 
family." 

Eva's  voice  was  now  heard  in  the  hall,  as  though  call 
ing  to  some  one  who  had  just  left. 

"  Give  my  love  to  your  sisters.  I  shall  hope  to  see 
them  this  evening." 

And  then  she  came  with  haste  into  the  room,  her  coun 
tenance  somewhat  more  calm  than  when  she  had  left  it. 

"  I  am  sorry,  uncle,  to  have  detained  you  so,"  —  Mr. 
Blanchard  perhaps  unconsciously  knit  his  brow ;  he  had 
of  late  objections  to  that  title  —  "I  believe  I  shall  con 
clude  to  give  my  friends  here  the  trouble  to  carry  or  send 
me  home  in  a  few  days,  as  they  seem  so  ready  to  do  so, 
and  perhaps  I  can  be  of  some  assistance  to  Mrs.  Sandford, 
in  getting  ready  for  country  housekeeping.  I  believe  I 
know  more  about  the  country  now,  than  she  does." 

Mr.  Blanchard  began  to  realize  that  Eva,  as  Mr.  Sand- 
ford  had  said,  felt  herself  equal  to  the  task  of  being  her 
own  advisor  or  guardian,  for  she  did  not  attempt  to  hide 
the  fact  that  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  stay.  He  was 
sorely  disappointed.  He  had  calculated  on  having  such  a 
pleasant  ride  home  —  such  a  fine  opportunity  for  com 
plaisance  and  attention. 

"  But  what  will  Aunt  Jemima  say !  she  feels  dreadfully 
lonesome." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  know  she  has  her  kittens  and  little  Jow- 
ler,  she  must  amuse  herself  with  them ;  I  don't  think  she 
will  suffer." 

"  Well,  well,  if  it  must  be  so,  it  must,  but  when  shall  I 
come  for  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  uncle,  you  need  not  do  that  by  any  means ;  we 
have  so  many  gentlemen  around  here  that  seem  to  have 
not  much  else  to  do  but  wait  upon  ladies,"  smiling  toward 
Mr.  Sandford,  "  that  I  have  no  doubt  the  moment  I  say 
the  word,  they  will  be  ready  to  take  me." 

Another  hard  blow  upon  Mr.  Blanchard's  suffering 
heart;  he  choked  it  down  however,  made  the  best  he 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  211 

could  of  the  matter,  was  very  formal  in  his  bows  to  the 
company,  and  was  soon  on  his  way,  no  doubt  indulging 
some  thoughts  about  the  past,  present  and  future,  not  all, 
of  them  very  agreeable. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  letter  which  Mr.  Sandford  handed  to  Miss  Eva 
Stanley,  and  which  caused  such  disturbance  in  the  mind 
of  Mr.  Blanchard,  was  entirely  of  a  business  nature.  It 
was  a  request  from  William  Herbert,  that  she  would  al 
low  of  an  interview  between  them,  as  he  wished  to  com 
municate  with  her  on  some  matters  that  had  reference 
solely  to  her  own  personal  interests,  and  with  which  he 
himself  had  no  concern.  Mrs.  Sandford,  as  we  have  seen, 
accompanied  her  from  the  room  where  the  company  had 
been  assembled,  and  led  the  trembling  girl  into  an  adjoin 
ing  one,  that  she  might  read  the  letter,  and  that  she,  Mrs. 
Sandford,  might  say  a  few  words  to  her  before  the  inter 
view  with  Mr.  Herbert.  She  saw  that  Eva  turned  pale 
while  reading  its  contents,  and  felt  deeply  anxious  to  know 
what  it  contained.  As  Eva  laid  it  on  her  lap,  Mrs.  Sand- 
ford  asked : 
.  "  May  I  see  it  ?  " 

"  Oli,  yes,  there  is  nothing  in  it  that  I  care  for,"  and 
handed  it. 

"What  does  it  mean,  dear  Eva  ?  " 

"I  cannot  imagine,  nor  do  I  care.  Business!  and  per 
sonal  concern  !  I  care  for  neither." 

"  But  you  will  see  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  suppose  I  must." 

"  You  wish  to  see  him,  do  you  not  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say  what  I  wish.  My  mind  is  in  a  whirl  — 
every  thing  is  dark  about  me  —  life  is  getting  to  be  a 
burden." 

"  You  should  not  say  so.  You  must  not  feel  so,  you 
have  many  things  agreeable  in  your  lot." 


212  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"You  do  not  know,  dear  Mrs.  Sandford,  or  you  would 
not  say  so.  Thrown  upon  the  cares  of  a  family,  not  one 
member  of  which  has  any  true  sympathy  for  me,  because 
we  have  no  views  or  feelings  in  common ;  and  the  only 
human  being  besides  yourself  to  whom  I  might  have 
looked  for  it,  the  only  one  who  really  knows  me,  and 
whom  I  once  thought  —  loved  me.  Yes,  I  will  say  it  to 
you,  I  thought  he  loved  me.  I  am  to  be  separated  from, 
and  with  his  own  confession  ringing  in  my  ears  — '  he  had 
tried  to  put  me  out  of  his  mind.'  " 

"^Do  —  don't,  dear  Eva,  you  will  get  your  feelings  all 
worked  -up  again.  You  will  wish  to  feel  composed  when 
you  meet  Mr.  Herbert ;  but  promise  me,  dear  Eva,  if  there 
is  any  opening  for  an  explanation,  you  will  not  put  an 
obstacle  in  his  way  again." 

She  made  no  reply,  but  rising  and  taking  the  letter  in 
her  hand,  proceeded  at  once  to  the  room  where  William 
Herbert  was  waiting  to  receive  her. 

On  entering  the  room,  he  rose  quickly  and  gave  his  hand 
which  she  readily  took.  Neither  spoke.  He  led  her  to  a 
seat,  and  placed  himself  near  her.  She  saw  he  was  dead 
ly  pale,  and  when  he  spoke  there  was  an  evident  tremor 
in  his  voice,  and  the  tones  very  low. 

"  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  request  this  interview,  not 
for  any  personal  reason  of  my  own,"  he  said,  "  as  my  note 
informed  you^  and  yet  in  some  sense  it  is  a  personal  mat 
ter  of  my  own,  too.  I  cannot,  without  an  effort  to  pre 
vent  it,  see  the  daughter  of  th6se  from  whom  for  so  many 
years  I  received  such  tokens  of  kindness,  and  from  whose 
lather  I  learned  those  principles  of  business  that  have  en 
abled  me  to  gain  a  livelihood,  and  perhaps  an  indepen 
dence,  in  danger." 

"  In  danger !     From  what  source  ?  " 

And  Eva  looked  at  him  earnestly,  and  almost  with  a 
countenance  tinged  with  displeasure. 

"  From  one  who  is  entrusted  with  power  over  you  and 
your  property. 

"  I  understand  you,  but  I  could  not  have  imagined  that 
William  Herbert  had  so  far  lost  confidence  in  Eva  Stan 
ley,  that  he  could  for  a  moment  give  credence  to  the  idle 


LOOKING  AROUND.  213 

stories  that  I  hear  are  circulating.  I  must  have  fallen  in 
your  estimation,  William,  much  lower  than  I  supposed." 

"I  suppose  I  know  to  what  you  allude,  but  I  can  assure 
you,  my  apprehensions  are  not  founded  on  any  such  idea. 
You  do  me  injustice  by  the  mere  suspicion  that  my  fears 
were  excited  by  that  cause." 

"  Pardon  me,  then,  I  believe  you.  I  am  sorry  I  did  not 
wait  and  learn  fully  to  what  you  referred." 

"  That  Mr.  Blanchard  should  desire  to  make  sure  in 
some  way  of  your  good  will,  and  even  endeavor  to  obtain 
your  hand,  I  can  very  readily  believe ;  but  unless  I  could 
be  assured  that  Eva  Stanley  had  lost  all  respect  for  her 
self  and  those  from  whom  she  is  descended,  not  for  an  in 
stant  could  the  thought  dwell  in  my  mind  that  her  con 
sent  could  ever  be  obtained.  My  fears  are  entirely  con 
fined  to  the  power  which  Mr.  Blanchard  has  over  your 
property.  He  is,  you  know,  a  guardian,  and  under  no 
bond  for  the  fulfillment  of  that  trust ;  it  has  been  left  to 
his  honor." 

"  One  would  think  that  would  be  bond  enough,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  hard-heartedness  that  would  take  advan 
tage  of  a  lone  and  friendless  one  as  I  am.  Surely  the  ob 
ligations  he  is  under  to  my  father,  who,  as  I  have  often 
heard,  assisted  him  materially  in  his  earlier  days,  must 
have  weight  enough  to  keep  him  from  injuring  me ;  and 
besides,  what  object  could  my  small  property  be  to  him, 
a  rich  man." 

"  How  small  do  you  suppose  your  property  is  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  thought  about  it  any  way.  My  allow 
ance  is  six  hundred  a  year.  Mr.  Blanchard  always  spoke 
of  it  in  that  way, '  small  property,'  it  may  probably  be 
twelve  or  fifteen  thousand  dollars." 

"  Yes,  and  five  times  that  amount  and  more  too ;  that 
is,  your  father  left  that  amount  of  property.  There  must 
have  been  all  of  ninety  thousand  dollars  received  by  Mr. 
Blauchard,  from  your  father's  estate." 

"  Are  you  sure,  William  ?  " 

"  Sure  as  my  senses  can  make  me.  Every  dollar  of  his 
money  was  under  my  inspection.  Your  father  kept  noth 
ing  from  me." 

"  I  know  he  reposed  the  utmost  confidence  in  you." 


214  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  I  have  evidence  that  I  can  rely  upon,  that  your  prop 
erty  is  in  danger.  Mr.  Blanchard  is,  in  some  way,  closely 
linked  with  a  man  in  the  city  of  New  York,  who  is  known 
to  be  a  reckless  speculator.  He  may  be  an  honest  man, 
but  he  is  a  very  unsafe  person  to  be  trusted  with  funds. 
He  has  met  with  great  losses,  and  is  likely  to  lose  a  vast 
deal  more,  if  the  present  times  continue.  Mr.  Blanchard 
knows  something  of  this,  but  probably  is  not  aware  to 
what  extent  he  has  already  suffered.  His  own  property  is 
small.  I  know  he  is  reported  rich,  but  he  was  not  rich 
when  your  father  died.  Forty  thousand  dollars  would 
more  than  cover  all  he  was  worth ;  the  large  amount, 
therefore,  which  he  is  operating  upon,  must  come  from 
other  sources.  Do  you  know  that  he  has  sold  many  of 
your  lots  in  the  upper  part  of  the  city  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  that  he  has  sold  them.  He  did  once 
say  to  me,  that  he  thought  it  would  be  better  to  sell  them 
as  they  were  unproductive,  and  might  better  be  sold  and 
the  amount  invested  in  some  way  that  would  yield  an  in 
come,  but  I  made  no  reply,  for,  in  fact,  I  cared  little  about 
such  things." 

"  Money  is  a  blessing,  if  properly  used  —  it  is  power  — 
it  is  a  talent  with  which  you  are  entrusted.  You  ought 
now,  that  you  are  near  the  age  when  you  can  in  some 
measure  act  for  yourself,  acquaint  yourself  with  your  af 
fairs.  It  would  be  a  sad  thing  for  you  to  be  left  desti 
tute  ;  you  have  never  known  want,  nor  what  it  was  not  to 
have  every  wish  gratified  —  that  is,  so  long  as  I  knew  you. 
Your  father  earned  his  money  honestly  and  honorably, 
and  I  cannot  bear  to  think  you  are  in  danger  of  losing  it 
all,  and  perhaps  becoming  dependent  upon  others." 

"  What  can  I  do,  William  ?  I  have  no  more  idea  my 
self,  than  a  child." 

"  Choose  another  guardian." 

"But  whom  should  I  choose  ;  you,  I  suppose,  could  not 
take  it  ?  " 

"  I  could  not,  although  I  thank  you  for  the  confidence 
that  suggestion  intimates.  I  shall  be  away,  and  even  if  I 
were  here,  I  might  not  be  able  to  assist  you.  It  may  be  in 
a  change  of  guardianship  the  Chancellor  will  demand  large 
securities  —  I  am  yet  comparatively  poor.  I  can,  how- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  215 

ever,  recommend  to  you  a  gentleman  of  sterling  integri 
ty,  and  of  large  means  —  a  friend  of  mine  —  in  fact,  the 
one  with  whom  I  am  engaged  in  business." 

But  a  perfect  stranger  to  me !  " 

"  He  is  not  exactly  a  stranger,  for  he  knows  about  you 
and  your  affairs,  and  it  is  chiefly  through  him  I  have  ob 
tained  the  information  which  has  alarmed  me.  He  knows 
Mr.  Blanchard  thoroughly  —  is  in  some  measure  intimate 
with  him.  He  is  a  kind-hearted,  benevolent,  whole-soul 
man,  and  to  tell  you  further,  he  has  urged  me  to  impress 
upon  you  the  necessity  of  taking  some  steps  for  removing 
your  property  from  the  grasp  of  Blanchard." 

Eva  did  not  at  once  reply.  She  was  deeply  absorbed 
in  thought,  trying  to  reconcile  the  statement  now  made  to 
her,  with  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  made. 
This  meeting  with  William  was  accidental.  Why  had  he 
not  taken  pains  to  see  her,  or  to  communicate  with  her 
while  in  New  York !  If  so  interested  in  her  affairs,  why 
should  he  have  left  the  matter  to  the  uncertainty  of  an 
accidental  meeting  ?  She  could  not  comprehend  it. 

"  I  am  uncertain  what  I  ought  to  do.  Mr.  Blanchard 
is  my  only  friend,  or  at  least  the  only  one  that  has  stood 
in  that  relation  to  me.  If  I  take  the  course  you  advise,  I 
must  break  loose  from  his  care  entirely,  and  then  I  am 
alone  indeed,  and  shall  be  thrown  upon  entire  strangers." 
She  paused,  for  her  feelings  were  becoming  highly  excited. 

William  saw  the  color  suffusing  her  face,  and  a  tear 
steal  from  the  drooping  lids  and  fall  upon  her  cheek. 

"  I  feel  deeply,"  he  said,  "  the  trial  to  which  I  see  you 
will  be  subjected,  and  most  gladly  would  I  relieve  you 
of  every  burden.  I  truly  believe  the  advice  I  have  given 
is  that  which  you  ought  to  take.  You  have  allowed  me 
to  feel  that  the  relation  we  ever  held  towards  each  other, 
was  not  displeasing  to  you,  and  therefore  I  venture  as 
William  Herbert  of  former  years,  to  address  you  as  Eva 
Stanley  of  old,  and  ask  you  most  earnestly  to  confide  in 
me  as  you  did  then  ;  for  your  own  sake,  forget  all  that  has 
given  you  displeasure  since  then,  and  believe  me  "  — 

She  put  out  her  hand,  which  he  took  in  silence. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you.  Now  tell  me  what  to  do ;  I 
will  follow  your  advice  to  the  very  letter." 


216  LOOKING   AROUND. 

In  a  quiet,  business  like  manner,  he  then  in  few  words 
recommended  a  course  which  he  thought  the  only  feasi 
ble  one  for  her  to  pursue.     That  course  need  not  be  rela 
ted  here,  and  then  rising  to  depart, 
"  I  shall  not  probably  see  you  again  ?  " 
"  Will  you  not  be  at  Mr.  Roland's  this  evening  ?  " 
"  I  expect  to  be  there,  but  are  you  not  going  back  with 
Mr.  Blanchard  ?    I  see  his  carriage  is  here." 

"  I  thought  I  should  when  he  first  came,  but  I  am  now 
under  your  control,  and  as  I  believe  William  Herbert  and 
Eva  Stanley  would  in  days  gone  by,  if  about  to  be  sepa 
rated  for  years,  have  wished  to  embrace  the  opportunity 
to  the  last  moment,  of  saying  the  last  words,  I  therefore 
have  concluded  not  to  return  with  Mr.  Blanchard." 
"  And  you  are  going  to  remain  for  my  sake  ! " 
"  Do  you  not  think  it  best?  " 
"  Eva,  dear  Eva." 

She  did  not  rebuke  him  for  the  warmth  of  his  address, 
nor  did  she  attempt  to  withdraw  the  hand  which  he  still 
held.  She  did  not  speak,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  con 
tinued  : 

"  You  will  allow  me  then  to  feel  that  an  explanation  of 
my  apparent  neglect  is  unnecessary." 

"  We  are  William  Herbert  and  Eva  Stanley,  as  once  we 
were." 

William  was  about  to  say  something  —  it  must  have 
been  something  that  took  hold  of  his  heart,  for  his  coun 
tenance  manifested  deep  feeling.  He  almost  pronounced 
her  name  as  beginning  an  address  —  he  hesitated  —  gently 
pressed  her  hand,  and  bade  "  good  morning." 

It  may  surprise  the  reader  as  it  confused  Miss  Stanley, 
why  Mr.  Herbert  should  not  have  taken  some  pains  while 
she  was  in  the  city,  to  have  communicated  to  •  her  the 
information  which  he  had  now  brought,  and  should  have 
left  such  an  important  matter  to  a  chance  meeting.  The 
reasons  are  plain ;  he  only  learned  the  particulars  a  few 
days  before  he  left  New  York.  He  was  then  busily  en 
gaged  making  arrangements  to  remove  his  sisters  from 
their  former  home,  where  they  had  been  living  after  the 
decease  of  their  mother,  who  had  now  been  dead  about  a 
year,  to  Woodburn,  in  order  that  they  might  be  near  Doc- 


LOOKING    AROTTN-D.  217 

tor  Ransom,  to  whom  their  father  had  on  his  death-bed 
entrusted  them,  provided  he  could  be  induced  to  take  the 
supervision.  This  was  not  known  xintil  William,  on  his 
return  from  abroad,  found  among  his  father's  papers  which 
the  sisters  had  cloistered  with  great  care,  a  sealed  letter 
addressed  to  himself  and  enclosing  one  to  the  reverend 
gentleman ;  and  as  the  girls  were  desirous  of  leaving  a 
place,  now  on  many  accounts  disagreeable  to  them,  he  at 
once  proceeded  to  carry  out  his  father's  request.  Doctor 
Ransom  was  willing  to  take  the  supervision,  but  he  could 
not  take  them  into  his  own  family,  but  as  we  have  seen, 
board  was  obtained  at  the  house  of  young  Bradford,  and 
William  in  accomplishing  all  this,  had  necessarily  to  go 
back  and  forth  several  times,  both  to  the  residence  of  his 
sisters  and  to  Woodburn,  and  as  there  were  no  railroads 
in  these  days,  journeys  occupied  days  instead  of  hours. 
He  had  stopped  at  Sing  Sing  for  a  day  and  night,  for  the 
purpose  of  gratifying  his  curiosity  in  viewing  those  spots 
made  classical  by  Irving's  beautiful  legend,  and  had  sail 
ed  across  the  bay  to  see  the  spot  where  Andre  had  been 
hung. 

It  was  his  firm  purpose  after  leaving  his  sisters,  to  en 
deavor  in  some  way  to  see  Eva,  or  communicate  with  her 
on  his  return  to  New  York.  Their  unexpected  meeting, 
and  the  information  he  received  from  his  sisters  that  she 
was  to  spend  the  summer  at  Blanchard's,  broke  up  that 
plan.  He  therefore  resolved  on  his  return  to  New  York 
to  get  his  friend  Mr.  Tremain  to  write  to  her,  enclosing 
one  from  himself;  his  own  letter  he  feared  would  not 
reach  her.  When  he  again  so  unexpectedly  met  her  at 
the  house  of  Mr.  Roland,  he  resolved  to  ask  a  meeting. 
It  was  granted,  but  it  ended  so  abruptly,  that  he  could 
not  bring  himself  to  the  point.  It  was  only  when  he  ac 
cidentally  learned  that  Blanchard's  carriage  had  driven  up 
to  the  door  of  Mr.  Sandford,  that  fearing  she  was  about 
to  go  away,  he  hastily  resolved  to  seek  another  interview, 
the  result  of  which  the  reader  knows. 

It  was  not  such  a  lively  time  on  Mr.  Roland's  piazza 
that  evening  as  Mrs.  Sandford  had  anticipated ;  the  hour 
for  separation  was  so  near,  and  so  many  of  the  little  com 
pany  were  affected  by  it,  as  to  throw  a  damper  on  the  rest. 
10 


218  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Most  of  the  conversation  was  carried  on  in  almost  whis 
pered  tones,  and  yet  there  seemed  to  be  a  happy  ming 
ling  of  sympathies,  especially  with  the  three  young  la 
dies  and  Mrs.  Sandford.  Mary  and  Julia  Herbert  had 
taken  seats,  one  on  each  side  of  her,  and  were  each  hold 
ing  a  hand.  They  had  only  seen  her  for  the  first  time 
the  day  previous,  but  her  pleasant  manner  had  won  their 
confidence,  and  when  they  found  that  their  place  of  resi 
dence  was  so  near  to  hers,  and  that  daily  intercourse  could 
be  readily  enjoyed,  it  greatly  increased  the  pleasure  of 
the  acquaintance ;  it  would  grow  into  friendship  so  they 
thought,  that  is,  if  their  society  should  be  as  agreeable  to 
her  as  hers  was  to  them.  They  felt  alone ;  their  guar 
dian  brother  was  to  be  away  —  Mr.  Ransom  they  loved 
because  William  loved  him.  Mrs.  Ransom  they  had  not 
seen  yet.  They  hoped  they  should  find  her  as  lovely  as 
William  had  described  her  to  be,  but  Mrs.  Sandford  was 
a  present  joy,  her  loveable  countenance  beaming  glad 
ness  and  sensibility,  her  warm  heart  ready  to  embrace  all 
who  needed  her  sympathy,  these  were  palpable  and  met 
their  present  need.  Nor  was  Mrs.  Sandford's  interest  in 
them,  merely  the  outgushing  of  benevolence  towards  the 
two  orphans.  She  had  heard  a  little  about  them  from. 
Eva,  and  that,  with  their  own  open,  candid  conntenance, 
behavior,  and  perhaps  we  may  add,  their  fine  personal  ap 
pearance,  all  combined,  made  her  anxious  to  draw  them 
close  to  her  heart.  And  they  three  sat  together,  and 
there  was  a  fast  flow  of  words,  and  sometimes  even  a  tear 
would  be  started,  as  they  were  more  particularly  dwelling 
upon  the  charm  of  their  dear  brother  Willie.  Mi-s.  Sand- 
ford,  too,  knew  how  to  manifest  sympathy  in  a  way  that 
relieved,  while  it  -encouraged  the  heart.  There  was  always 
a  bright  side  to  her  view  of  life,  and  under  the  electric  in 
fluence  of  her  voice,  as  she  sits  and  talks  to  the  two  girls, 
their  hearts  yearn  towards  her.  Their  confidence  yields 
to  her  open  and  truthful  interest  in  them,  and  they  begin 
to  feel  that  even  their  brother's  absence  will  not  leave  them 
entirely  alone. 

Eva  is  conversing  with  Mr.  Bradford,  while  William 
Herbert  and  young  Roland  are  walking  arm  in  arm  in  the 
broad  walk  running  in  front  of  the  piazza.  The  subject 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  219 

of  conversation  need  not  now  be  revealed,  but  the  name 
of  Blanchard  could  have  been  distinctly  heard  by  those 
seated  near  them,  if  they  had  not  all  been  so  absorbed  in 
subjects  of  more  pleasing  interest.  At  times,  at  the  fur 
ther  end  of  their  promenade  they  would  stop,  and  while 
Herbert,  who  was  the  chief  speaker,  would  be  addressing 
his  companion  with  much  earnestness,  the  latter  listened 
with  intense  interest,  while  his  countenance  manifested  a 
troubled  expression.  At  the  close  of  one  of  their  pauses 
in  their  walk,  Roland  took  the  hand  of  Herbert,  as  though 
thanking  him  for  what  he  had  revealed  ;  and  then  arm  in 
arm,  they  walked  up  to  the  rest  of  the  company. 

It  was  drawing  near  to  ten  o'clock,  when  the  servant 
who  had  been  some  little  time  watching  from  the  landing 
came  up,  and  announced  that  the  steamboat  was  in  sight, 
about  two  miles  off.  As  soon  as  the  intelligence  was  re 
ceived,  Eva  arose  and  retired  within  the  house,  while 
Bradford  and  Roland,  with  an  instinct  of  delicacy,  walk 
ed  towai'ds  the  gate. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  say  good-bye  here,"  said 
William,  as  the  girls  arose,  each  clasping  one  of  his  hands. 

"Do  you  think  so!  "  they  replied,  looking  earnestly  up 
into  his  face,  which  was  lightened  with  a  smile.' 

"  Oh,  William,"  said  Mary,  "  how  can  you  put  on  such  a 
cheerful  countenance  at  such  a  dreadful  moment ! 

"  Dear  sister,  do  not  let  us  make  the  worst  of  life's 
trials.  Let  us  thank  our  Heavenly  Father  for  the  many 
pleasant  scenes  we  have  enjoyed  together  for  the  past  few 
weeks,  and  for  the  many  comforts  of  the  present  moment. 
I  feel  very  sure  that  I  leave  you  among  those  who  will 
yet  prove  dear  friends  to  you.  And  he  looked  with  mean 
ing  at  Mrs.  Sandford  as  he  spoke. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  have  been  telling  them,"  she  re 
plied.  "  I  for  one,  love  them  already,  and  I  assure  you 
Mr.  Herbert  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  the  trust  you  re 
pose  in  us  is  not  verified." 

"  I  thank  you  most  heartily,  madam,  and  now  dear  girls, 
one  good  kiss.  Come,  Julia,  the  youngest  first." 

Julia  had  not  only  seized  his  hand,  but  was  leaning  with 
her  head  upon  his  arm,  clasping  it  tightly  and  giving  full 
vent  to  her  overwrought  feelings.  As  he  said  this,  she 
threw  her  arms  about  his  neck. 


220  BOOKING   ABOUND. 

•c,. 

"  Dear,  dear,  brother,  I  will  be  a  good  girl.  I  will  mind 
all  you  have  told  me,  I  will  put  down  my  selfishness,  I 
will  curb  my  pride,  1  will  read  the  Bible  every  day,  and 
try  to  do  just  what  it  says." 

The  young  man  was  much  affected  with  this  simple  out 
pouring  of  her  heart,  —  the  expression  of  readiness  to 
comply  with  his  request  made  with  reference  to  her  best 
good.  It  was  a  testimony  to  his  faithful  interests  as  a 
brother.  She  believed  it  would  comfort  him  more  than 
ought  else  she  could  say.  He  pressed  her  in  a  warm  em 
brace,  and  as  her  trembling  lips  met  his,  he  only  said  : 

"  God  bless  you  and  keep  you,  dear  Julia." 

As  the  elder  sister  yielded  the  parting  embrace,  she 
whispered  in  his  ear  before  she  gave  the  long,  warm  kiss. 
What  she  said  could  only  be  guessed  ft-om  his  reply. 

"  I  will  see  her." 

Immediately  he  entered  the  house,  and  the  sisters  walk 
ed  up  to  Mrs.  Sandford,  who  had  retired  a  little  from  the 
circle  during  the  parting  scene.  They  saw  the  tears  on 
her  cheek,  and  touched  by  this  mark  of  feeling  for  them, 
threw  themselves  upon  her  neck  as  if  she  had  been  a  friend 
they  had  always  known. 

Eva  was  walking  the  room  as  William  entered ;  she 
paused  and  extended  her  hand  as  he  came  up  —  neither 
spoke.  A  moment  they  stook  looking  each  other  in  the 
face,  each  countenance  manifesting  sad,  yet  tender  emo 
tions.  Should  he  embrace  her  ?  He  had  never  taken  such 
a  liberty.  The  temptation  was  a  strong  one,  but  he  re 
membered  they  were  to  each  other  only  as  William  Her 
bert  and  Eva  Stanley  of  former  days ;  and  yet  that  ear 
nest,  confiding,  tender  look  that  was  fixed  upon  him  !  He 
might  never  behold  it  again !  Would  she  resent  it  as  a  lib 
erty  unwarranted  by  their  present  or  past  relation  !  Ho 
raised  her  hand,  and  for  a  moment  pressed  it  to  his  lips, 
and  then  was  about  to  turn  away,  when  he  saw  the  deep 
emotion  glowing  from  every  feature  of  her  lovely  face. 

"  I  cannot  part  so.  You  will  not  deny  me  a  warmer 
token ! " 

And  she  did  not. 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

The  country  residence  of  Mr.  Blanchard  was  a  very  re 
tired  spot.  A  mountain  ran  up  behind  it,  and  shut  off  all 
view  of  the  river,  and  a  woods  intervened  between  it  and 
the  highway,  so  that  it  was  still  life  there  all  the  time  ex 
cept  when  the  thunder  clouds  settled  over  them  —  there 
was  noise  enough  then.  It  was  just  such  a  place  where 
deeds  of  violence  might  be  enacted,  and  days  pass  before 
any  tidings  might  reach  the  public  ear.  There  was  noth 
ing  particularly  attractive  in  the  view  from  it,  without  one 
delighted  in  mountain  scenery  or  woods,  and  even  then, 
they  were  both  too  near  to  appear  to  advantage.  Moun 
tains  present  indeed,  a  charm,  when  just  far  enough  re 
moved  to  put  on  their  fairy  covering  of  blue,  and  when  the 
vapors  that  rest  upon  their  summits  or  creep  along  their 
sides  appear  like  smoke  wreaths,  and  their  graceful  curves 
throw  a  fine  drapery  around  the  huge  blue  monster ;  but 
when  the  scrub  trees  and  the  jagged  rocks  are  plainly  vis 
ible,  and  the  clouds  are  nothing  but  a  fog  or  drizzle,  the 
beauty  and  romance  are  lost.  The  building,  however,  was 
large  and  well  finished,  and  all  its  appearances  in  good  or 
der.  There  was  also  a  fine  carriage  path  through  the 
woods,  not  a  straight  avenue,  but  winding  gracefully,  and 
of  sufficient  width  for  vehicles  to  pass  each  other  with 
ease,  and  at  the  gate  which  led  to  the  highway,  was  a 
small  tenement  or  porter's  lodge.  It  was  a  neat  building, 
and  was  occupied  by  the  gardener ;  and  as  he  had  no 
children  the  building  was  of  sufficient  size  for  his  accom 
modation.  The  establishment  had  once  been  the  proper 
ty  of  a  gentleman  from  the  West  Indies,  a  Spaniard  by 
birth,  but  educated  in  this  country,  and  married  to  au 
English  lady  to  whom  he  became  introduced  at  Porto 
Rico.  His  wife  died  very  suddenly,  and  was  buried  with 
great  privacy  on  his  own  grounds ;  and  almost  immedi- 


222  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

ately  he  left  the  place  and  went  abroad.  Strange  stories 
were  soon  circulated  in  reference  to  the  death  of  his  wife, 
but  as  the  people  in  the  immediate  vicinity  were  mostly 
of  the  laboring  class,  and  had  enough  business  of  their 
own  to  attend  to,  and  as  the  servants  had  been  hired  from 
the  city  and  returned  there  when  the  establishment  was 
broken  up,  no  efforts  were  made  to  search  into  the  truth 
of  the  rumors  which  were  started.  But  most  people  in 
the  vicinity  believed  that  a  foul  deed  had  been  commit 
ted  there,  and  in  general  shunned  the  place.  Mr.  Blanch- 
ard  had  purchased  it  cheap,  and  probably  never  heard 
that  an  ill  name  was  attached  to  it,  for  he  was  not  one 
who  would  willingly  encounter  ghosts,  or  even  run  any 
risk  of  such  adventures,  for  with  all  his  bluster  and  com 
manding  presence,  he  was  at  heart  a  coward. 

As  to  the  situation  of  the  house,  it  suited  him  as  well 
as  any  place  in  the  country.  He  had  no  taste  for  its  beau 
ties  ;  fine  scenery  would  be  lost  upon  him,  as  much  as 
rich  music  upon  the  car  that  could  not  distinguish  discord 
from  harmony.  He  had  purchased  because  he  wanted  a 
"  country  seat."  It  was  but  a  few  miles  from  a  landing 
where  he  could  have  access  to  the  steamboats,  and  it  had 
a  name  by  which  it  was  distinguished  from  the  more  com 
mon  residences  of  farmers.  Woodbend  was  something  a 
little  out  of  the  common  course ;  there  was  not  much 
meaning  to  it,  nor  very  significant  of  its  position,  but 
there  was  certainly  woods  about  it,  and  a  road  through 
them,  bending  in  its  course  ;  whether  it  took .  its  name 
from  those  two  items,  is  not  now  known,  nor  of  much 
consequence. 

The  family  of  Mr.  Blanchard  had  spent  one  season  here, 
and  with  the  exception  of  Eva,  not  one  of  them  fancied 
it ;  so  that  they  made  excuses  for  not  wishing  to  go  into 
the  country  the  present  season.  The  younger  daughter 
was  taking  music  lessons  and  did  not  wish  to  leave  the 
city  on  that  account;  and  the  eldest  was  taking  lessons  of 
another  description,  from  a  gentleman  ;  and  as  her  father 
was  very  willing  she  should  profit  by  them,  he  readily  ac 
quiesced  in  the  ai'rangement  already  alluded  to.  Eva, 
however,  rather  courted  retirement.  She  had  taken  all 
the  lessons  she  desired  from  teachers,  and  being  fond  of 


LOOKING   AKOTTHD.  223 

improvement  through  books,  felt  it  desirable  rather  than 
otherwise,  to  be  where  interruptions  need  not  be  feared. 
She  had  also  a  passion  for  the  country.  Its  stillness  — 
—  its  freshness  —  its  variety  —  had  charms  for  her.  A 
walk  through  the  lonely  woods,  with  the  leaves  rustling 
to  her  tread,  and  the  wild  bird's  song,  and  the  echo  of 
the  lowing  cattle  in  the  distant  field,  were  more  engag 
ing  to  her  than  the  noise  and  throng  and  gaiety  of  the 
city.  But  another  inducement  had  been  added  of  late, 
to  make  a  few  months'  residence  in  the  country  de 
sirable  —  the  company  of  the  Sandford's.  She  had  for 
some  months  been  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  them,  and 
when  she  learned  their  determinations  to  leave  the  city, 
and  that  they  had  selected  a  place  but  a  few  miles'  re 
move  from  Mr.  Blanchard's,  she  felt  quite  willing  to  yield 
to  his  invitation. 

Mr.  Blanchard  had  put  his  own  interpretation  upon  the 
motives  of  Eva,  and  was  for  a  time  ha'ppy  in  the  thought 
that  a  rare  opportunity  would  be  afforded  him  in  the 
prosecution  of  his  suit.  Some  abatements  have  been 
made,  as  we  have  already  seen,  to  these  bright  anticipa 
tions,  and  although  he  is  not  yet  hopeless,  he  has  some 
fears  which  did  not  trouble  him  when  he  started  in  the 
sloop  Polly,  for  Woodburn. 

We  have  not  yet  introduced  to  the  reader,  Aunt  Jemi 
ma,  the  lady  at  the  head  of  Mr.  Blanchard's  establish 
ment.  She  was  a  second  cousin  of  that  gentleman,  and 
somewhat  his  junior  in  years.  At  the  death  of  his  wife 
he  had  looked  round  for  some  person  to  fill  the  place  in 
his  house  thus  left  vacant,  his  daughters  having  no  taste 
for  domestic  duties.  Aunt  Jemima  Richards  was  a  wid 
ow,  who  had  been  left  without  property,  and  was  then 
living  with  a  brother-in-law,  who,  with  his  wife,  were  will 
ing  to  receive  her,  as  an  act  of  kindness,  but  who  by  no 
means  courted  the  privilege.  She  was  not  of  a  congenial 
disposition  with  her  sister,  a  mild,  amiable,  artless  and 
good  woman.  Mrs.  Jemima's  views  were  of  the  lofty 
kind.  She  had  a  great  idea  of  her  personal  standing  in 
society.  She  had  never  lived  in  style,  nor,  from  family  or 
any  other  attachment,  could  lay  claim  to  consideration ; 
and  yet,  to  see  her,  with  a  queenly  air,  dressed  as  far  as 


224  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

she  could  be  in  the  extreme  of  fashion  —  whatever  that 
might  happen  to  be  —  one  who  did  not  know  might  have 
mistaken  her  for  the  relict  of  a  millionaire.  She  was, 
however,  quite  an  efficient  housekeeper  in  a  certain  way, 
being  a  great  stickler  for  fashionable  custom,  and  keeping 
a  strict  surveillance  over  servants  —  looking  upon  them 
all  as  so  many  outside  barbarains,  who  would  lie,  steal, 
and  waste  to  any  extent,  and  who  could  only  be  kept  in 
their  place  by  hauteur  of  manner  and  cold  disdain.  She 
had  been  in  youth  handsome,  and  retained  a  good  share 
of  beauty  even  to  the  period  of  life  at  which  she  had  ar 
rived  when  Mr.  Blanchard  made  proposals  for  her  advance 
ment  to  the  station  of  housekeeper. 

It  was  rather  a  shock  to  her  nerves  when  the  offer 
was  made.  Mr.  Blanchard  was  a  widower  !  Would  it  be 
proper?  Would  it  not  also  affect  her  position  in  society  ? 
Housekeepers  in  general  were  not  thought  much  of.  But 
upon  her  brother-in-law  hinting  that  in  all  probability 
"  she  would  in  time  be  mistress  of  the  establishment  in 
good  right,  and  at  any  rate  she  would  have  plenty  of 
money  at  command  to  do  as  she  pleased  with,"  after  a 
great  deal  of  talking,  and  guessing,  and  halting,  she  final 
ly  concluded  to  take  the  position. 

Aunt  Jemima  was  no  fool,  although  the  wisdom  she 
had  was  not  exerted  for  any  end  that  did  not  center  in 
self.  She  could  tell  a  very  plausible  story,  and  had  a  tact 
of  winning  the  confidence  of  those  she  wished  to  gain  to 
her  views.  Mr.  Blanchard's  daughters  were  not  strong 
minded  it  must  be  said,  nor  was  he  himself  gifted  in  that 
way ;  and  Aunt  Jemima  knew  just  how  to  manage  them, 
so  that  it  did  not  take  long  to  enable  her  to  wield  almost 
unbounded  influence  over  them  and  him.  It  was  by  her 
means  that  the  country  seat  had  been  purchased,  and 
when  she  found  the  girls  did  not  like  the  country,  it  was 
through  her  persuasions  they  had  been  left  to  board  in 
the  city.  But  she  had  other  reasons  besides  the  ostensi 
ble  ones,  in  accomplishing  that  feat.  She  wanted  to  have 
Mr.  Blanchard  all  alone  to  herself,  for  it  may  as  well  be 
told  at  once,  she  had  designs  upon  the  good  man.  He 
was  not  aware  of  them,  for  he  had  other  and  far  different 
designs  in  his  own  mind,  as  we  have  already  seen. 


LOOKING   AEOTTNT*.  225 

Mrs.  Jemima  still  thought  herself  handsome ;  in  fact, 
when  she  surveyed  herself  in  the  glass,  the  color  on  her 
cheeks  seemed  as  fresh  as  ever;  and  as  she  did  not  use 
glasses,  which  would  have  aided  her  vision  materially,  she 
could  not  of  course  distinctly  perceive  those  marks  which 
time  in  his  stealthy  tramp  makes  upon  the  polished  brow 
of  youth ;  all  seemed  to  her  as  smooth  and  fair,  and  fresh 
as  ever,  and  if  she  could  have  the  object  of  her  desire  all 
alone  by  herself,  with  no  rivals  but  such  as  country  lasses 
might  afford  —  of  whom  she  had  no  fear — it  would  be 
almost  a  certainty  that  her  design  would  be  accomplished. 
But  the  first  baulk  to  her  plans  originated  in  the  unex 
pected  consent  of  Eva  to  accompany  them.  She  had  sup 
posed  of  course  that  a  young  lady  like  Eva,  would  prefer 
to  remain  with  her  cousins,  as  they  were  called,  and  in  as 
wise  a  way  as  possible  she  hinted  to  Mr.  Blanchard  that 
it  would  not  be  best  to  urge  —  that  is  the  word  she  used 

—  to  urge  Eva  to  go ;  "  she  feared  she  would  be  very 
lonely."     But  the  young  lady  did  not  need  urging,  and 
seemed  rather  pleased  that  she  could  go ;  and  what   was 
more  strange  still  to  Mrs.  Jemima,  Mr.  Blanchard  mani 
fested  greater  pleasure  than  she  could  have  anticipated, 
when  the  matter  was  fully  arranged.     This  circumstance 
aroused  the  sensitive  feelings  of  the  lady  and  set  her 
to  thinking  —  thinking  backward  —  and  she  began  to  get 
some  light  upon  matters  by  this  process.     She  remember 
ed   now   that  a  great   change  had   been   made   by   Mr. 
Blanchard  in  his  conduct  towards  that  young  lady  for 
some  months  past ;  little  attentions  that  he  had  paid  her, 

—  a  manifest  desire  to  do  what  was  agreeable  to  her,  af 
ter  consulting  her,  when  Mrs.  Jemima  thought  that  she  or 
his  daughters  had  a  prior  claim  to  that  honor  —  a  readi 
ness  to  wait  upon  her  when  she  wished  to  go  to  the  Sand- 
ford's,  or  to  go  for  her  if  she  were  spending  an  evening 
there,  instead  of  sending  his  son  George. 

Things  began  to  grow  husky  to  the  eyes  of  the  lady. 
She  did  not  like  the  view.  The  most  convincing  proof, 
however,  she  had  of  the  wrong  way  things  were  going, 
was  in  Mr.  Blanchard's  sending  her,  Mrs.  Jemima,  up  in 
company  with  his  son  and  the  servants  to  the  country,  to 
get  things  in  readiness,  and  his  waiting  to  accompany 
10* 


226  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Miss  Eva  himself.  There  was  also  quite  a  stir  in  her  mind 
the  morning  Mr.  Blanchard  had  arrived  from  New  York 
in  the  good  sloop  Polly.  He  had  come  indeed,  without 
Eva,  and  that  for  the  moment  was  a  cause  of  joy ;  but 
when  she  found  that  Mr.  Blanchard  was  in  a  disturbed 
state  of  mind,  caused  by  the  fact  that  she  was  rejoicing 
in,  and  that  he  had  immediately  ordered  the  carriage  to 
be  in  readiness,  and  that  he  himself  was  going  on  the  im 
portant  errand  of  bringing  the  young  lady  home,  she  was, 
to  say  the  least,  confounded.  He  was  a  careful  man,  she 
knew,  about  some  things,  and  it  might  be  well  for  him  as 
her  guardian,  to  be  watchful ;  yet  this  seemed  like  exer 
cising  unnecessary  vigilance  ;  but  she  prudently  restrained 
her  feelings,  so  far  as  it  was  possible  for  woman's  nature 
to  do  so.  She  however  gave  vent  to  a  sly  cut  as  he  was 
about  ,to  depart. 

"  Tell  Miss  Eva,"  she  said,  "  that  she  must  come  by  all 
means,  it's  so  dreadfully  lonesome  here  without  her? 
There  was  a  sarcastic  or  sardonic  smile  about  her  lips  as 
she  said  it,  and  quite  a  ruddy  hue  to  her  cheeks,  as  she  was 
fidgety  and  kept  fanning  herself,  although  it  was  quite 
early  in  the  day.  Mr.  Blanchard  did  not  notice  these  symp 
toms,  and  took  the  cut  in  good  part,  and  faithfully  deliv 
ered  his  message  as  we  have  seen  ;  but  Mrs.  Jemima  was 
out  of  sorts  all  day,  and  did  not  recover  full  command 
of  her  better  feelings  until  Mr.  Blanchard  returned  and 
nobody  with  him.  He  made  as  fair  a  story  as  he  could 
invent  as  to  the  cause  of  his  unsuccessful  errand,  but  the 
sharp  eye  of  Mrs.  Jemima  clearly  perceived  the  chagrin 
which  he  tried  to  conceal.  "  There  was  a  wheel  within  a 
wheel,"  somewhere  about  the  affair,  and  she  meant  to  keep 
an  eye  on  the  movement  of  both  parties. 

Mr.  Blanchard  left  the  house  of  Mr.  Sandford  in  a  very 
uncomfortable  state  of  mind,  although  he  put  on  the  best 
face  that  the  nature  of  things  would  admit ;  he  had  time 
however,  to  meditate  upon  the  aspect  of  affairs.  If  he 
had  not  been  utterly  blinded  by  the  ardor  of  his  feelings, 
he  might  have  learned  that  his  suit  for  Eva  Stanley  was 
hopeless ;  he  did  not  see  it  in  that  light,  and  had  a  firm 
belief  if  she  were  once  under  his  roof,  and  subject  to  no 
influence  but  what  he  could  bring  to  bear  upon  her,  his 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  227 

purpose  would  yet  be  accomplished.  And  while  he  was 
busily  employed  in  ardent  thoughts  on  this  important 
matter,  among  other  things  which  might  be  made  use  of, 
it  occurred  to  him  that  Aunt  Jemima  would  be  a  wonder 
ful  aid  ;  he  had  unbounded  faith  in  her  power  to  accom 
plish  any  end  she  set  her  heart  upon.  What  if  he  could 
get  her  to  exert  her  influence  with  Eva  !  in  a  covert  way 
to  use  the  power  which  one  of  the  age  and  experience  of 
his  cousin  must  have  over  the  mild  and  unsophisticated 
girl,  who  already  had  learned,  as  he  blindly  supposed,  to 
yield  to  her  advice  as  completely  as  did  his  own  children. 
It  was  a  new  thought,  and  he  catched  at  it  eagerly,  and 
the  longer  it  stayed  with  him,  the  brighter  and  more  im 
portant  it  appeared,  until  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he 
would  take  cousin  Jemima  into  his  confidence.  Only  one 
impediment  presented  itself,  and  that  was  an  apparent 
disturbance  of  an  internal  nature,  that  had  of  late  mani 
fested  itself  on  the  part  of  that  lady.  He  had  noticed 
something  like  a  distance  of  manner ;  she  had  not  receiv 
ed  him  as  cordially  as  was  her  custom,  and  he  had  heard 
her  in  rather  sharper  tones  than  usual,  rebuking  the  cham 
bermaid,  and  he  noticed  that  she  seemed  quite  flurried  as 
she  stood  in  the  door  witnessing  his  departure  in  the  car 
riage.  Something  ailed  her.  She  must  be  pacified,  and 
suddenly  a  happy  thought  occurred  to  him.  He  had  pur 
chased  a  breast  pin,  which  he  had  designed  giving  to  Eva, 
when  they  should  be  alone  riding  in  his  can-iage.  It 
would  be  more  confidential  and  effective,  than  if  present 
ed  where  she  could  at  once  exhibit  it  to  others  ;  that  op 
portunity  for  the  present  was  lost.  What  a  charm  it 
would  possess  if  presented  to  cousin  Jemima  !  He  knew 
she  valued  such  things  highly ;  it  would  make  a  smooth 
path  for  him  to  her  good  will,  and  no  doubt  quicken  her 
zeal  to  serve  him.  He  felt  really  glad  now,  that  things 
had  thus  happened  ;  it  would  be  all  for  the  best,  as  most 
events  were,  he  found  from  past  experience,  and  before 
the  good  man  had  reached  Woodbend,  he  became  quite 
composed  in  mind,  though  silent  and  thoughtful.  The 
gift,  however,  was  not  presented  that  evening,  for  on 
reaching  home  he  received  a  letter  that  informed  him  of 
the  need  for  his  presence  in  New  York,  and  he  must  go 


228  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

down  that  evening,  and  some  two  or  three  weeks  elapsed 
before  his  return. 

When  Mr.  Blanchard  came  back,  he  looked  as  though 
lie  had  been  through  a  fit  of  sickness.  Business  had 
troubled  him ;  stocks  had  fallen  terribly,  and  were  still 
going  down,  and  there  were  reasons  now  why  a  union 
with  Miss  Eva  would  not  only  be  most  desirable,  but  al 
most  an  absolute  necessity.  He  was  jn  a  desperate  con 
dition,  and  different  measures  must  be  resorted  to.  Mrs. 
Jemima  seemed  alarmed  at  first  at  his  altered  appearance, 
but  he  said,  "  it  was  nothing ;  the  weather  had  been  very 
warm  in  New  York,  and  he  had  a  great  deal  of  running 
about  to  do."  He  was  very  careful  to  speak  in  the  bland 
est  tone,  for  he  was  now  firmly  resolved  to  try  the  ex 
periment  of  engaging  the  powerful  aid  of  Aunt  Jemima 
in  the  great  work  he  had  before  him.  Eva  had  not  reach 
ed  home,'  but  was  expected  in  a  day  or  two.  It  would  be 
better  to  have  all  preliminary  arrangements  settled  before 
her  return.  So  that  very  evening,  after  sitting  for  some 
time  beside  the  table  at  which  the  lady. was  also  seated, 
he,  busy  with  the  paper,  and  she  with  her  knitting,  just 
as  she  had  put  up -her  work  and  was  about  retiring  for  the 
night,  laying  down  his  paper, — 

"  Cousin  "  —  Mr.  Blanchard  always  gave  her  that  title 
when  the  children  were  not  present,  as  they  called  her  by 
the  more  dignified  title  of  aunt  —  "I  have  a  trifling  pre 
sent  for  you.  I  thought  you  might  fancy  it,"  and  saying 
so,  he  opened  a  small  box,  and  handed  it  as  gracefully  as 
he  could  towards  her. 

"  A  present  for  me  !  Oh, how  very  kind !  "  And  as  she 
took  out  the  box,  pulled  out  her  handkerchief  at  the  same 
time.  She  appeared  deeply  affected,  blushed  very  much, 
smiled  graciously,  just  a  passing  smile  —  it  was  only  a 
flush  —  and  then  a  most  serious  cast  settled  on  her  face, 
and  the  teais  started,  or  at  least  the  handkerchief  was 
there  to  catch  them. 

"  Oh,  I  never  thought  you  cared  enough  for  me  to  "  — 
but  the  deeply  affected  lady  could  say  no  more,  not  then. 

"  Oh  yes,  why  do  you  say  so  ?  I  am  sure,  cousin,  I 
have  ever  manifested  an  interest  in  you;  put  it  on. 

The  lady  had  not  as  yet  touched  the  precious  article  ; 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  229 

she  no  doubt  was  waiting  for  the  gentleman  to  take  it  out 
and  fasten  it  on  the  proper  place.  Mr.  Blanchard,  how 
ever,  to  his  credit  be  it  said,  had  not  practised  gallantry 
of  that  sort ;  so,  finding  that  if  the  breast  pin  was  to  bo 
exhibited  she  must  pei'form  the  delicate  operation  her 
self,  after  some  fumbling  and  blushing  there  at  length  it 
shone.  It  was  a  showy  article,  though  not  very  costly; 
it  sparkled  brightly,  however,  in  the  light  of  the  lamps, 
and  as  Mrs.  Jemima  walked  to  the  glass,  and  Mr.  Blanch 
ard  held  the  light  that  she  might  take  a  fair  survey,  their 
eyes  met  —  we  mean  in  the  glass  —  and  the  lady  gave 
such  an  expressive  glance  of  tenderness,  that  Mr.  Blanch 
ard  felt  a  warm  flush  creeping  over  him,  and  his  eye  drop 
ped  and  he  set  down  the  lamp. 

"  What  shall  I  say  to  you  for  this  beautiful,  costly  pres 
ent.  I  never  had  a  gift  I  valued  so  highly  before,"  and 
turning  toward  him  offered  her  hand,  which  of  course  he 
readily  took.  Whether  she  expected  he  would  salute  her, 
or  whether  she  designed  offering  the  compliment  to  him, 
it  would  have  been  difficult  for  a  looker  on  to  determine. 
She  was  certainly  highly  excited,  and  the  gentleman  some 
what  nervous.  He,  however,  must  say  something  in  re 
sponse  to  her  outburst  of  gratitude. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  mere  trifle,  cousin,  a  mere  trifle ;  you  have 
been  very  faithful  to  my  interests  —  a  mere  trifle  —  and 
perhaps  before  long  I  may  have  a-favor  to  ask  of  you  be 
yond  what  I  have  ever  had  occasion  to  ask  hitherto.  I 
hope  you  may  have  a  pleasant  night  and  pleasant  dreams.' 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  sleep  to-night,"  and  as  if  by  mu 
tual  consent,  the  hands  dropped  loose,  and  the  scene  for 
the  night  had  closed. 

If  Mr.  Blanchard  had  not  been  absorbed  with  the  one 
idea  that  had  taken  possession  of  him,  he  might  have 
been  somewhat  startled  at  the  peculiar  emotion  manifest 
ed  by  the  lady;  but  it  all  passed  with  him  for  gratitude, 
and  he  was  quite  elated  with  the  effect  produced.  He 
felt  very  sure  now  that  he  would  have  a  coadjutor  who 
would  be  all  powerful.  f 

Mrs.  Jemima  Richards  was  right  when  she  said,  "  she 
could  not  sleep  that  night,"  at  least  partly  right,  for  it  was 
a  long,  long  time  before  she  could  allow  herself  even  to 


230  LOOKING   AEOTTNT). 

shut  her  eyes ;  that  scene,  so  unexpected,  so  thrilling,  was 
not  to  be  slept  upon  until  it  had  been  pondered  and  sift 
ed  in  every  imaginable  way.  But  of  what  was  it  to  be  the 
precursor?  —  "some  favor  beyond  what  he  had  occasion 
to  ask  hitherto ! "  —  he  wishes  to  smooth  his  way  to  my 
heart.  Well,  I  shan't  trifle  with  him ;  he  is  diffident,  I 
know.  He  thinks  it  a  terrible  thing,  no  doubt,  to  say  the 
word  —  to  say  he  loves  me,  and  to  ask  for  my  regard. 
We  are  neither  of  us  young,  and  there  need  be  no  foolish 
making  believe,  and  saying  no  when  I  mean  yes.  I  will 
not  try  his  feelings.  If  he  asks  me,  I  shall  say  yes  at 
once  —  that  I  love  him,  and  have  loved  him  a  long  while. 
But  what  will  the  children  say  !  Well,  let  them  say. 
Euphemia  will  no  doubt  have  Peabody,  and  if  the  other 
don't  like  it  she  can  live  with  her  sister,  and  George  will 
not  care  so  long  as  he  can  spend  his  salary  as  he  pleases ; 
and  he  and  I  have  always  been  good  friends.  But  one 
thing  I  shall  do — this  place  shall  be  sold.  I  am  not  go 
ing  to  be  cooped  up  here  in  the  woods.  I  shall  not  say 
any  thing  about  that  for  a  while  —  not  until  the  wedding 
is  over  —  and  that  need  not  be  delayed.  We  know  one 
another  well  enough,  and  I  do  not  care  to  have  much  fuss 
made  about  that  —  a  private  wedding  is  just  as  well  — 
and  when  the  knot  is  tied  let  them  grumble  who  may." 

Now,  with  so  many  important  matters  running  in  one's 
head,  and  with  the  eyes  open  too,  and  the  moon  shining 
brightly,  it  could  not  be  surprising  if  sleep  kept  one  side. 
It  did  come  at  last,  however,  for  Mrs.  Jemima  awoke  from 
a  very  troubled  dream  —  in  fact,  it  was  nothing  more  nor 
less  than  a  contest  with  Mr.  Blanchard,  in  which  he 
charged  her  with  duplicity  and  forwardness,  and  with  try 
ing  to  cajole  him  into  a  marriage.  The  effect  of  the  dream 
was  to  cause  the  lady  to  start  upright  in  her  bed,  and  when 
she  found  herself  awake,  to  feel  for  the  pin  —  she  had  ta 
ken  it  to  bed  with  her.  It  was  there  fastened  to  her 
night-dress.  A  sweet  token  that  all  was  well  —  the 
dream  was  a  trying  one  to  be  sure,  but  as  they  are  al 
ways  to  be  interpreted  by  contraries,  she  was  upon  the 
whole  glad  of  it.  She  did  not,  however,  care  to  be  sub 
ject  to  another  such  disturbance,  not  that  night,  and  as 
the  birds  were  beginning  their  music,  it  would  not  have 


LOOKING   AROUND.  231 

been  worth  while  to  make  any  further  ventures  into  dream 
land. 

"  Good  morning,  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Blanchard,  as  he  en 
tered  the  breakfast  room,  and  took  his  seat  at  the  table. 
"  Had  a  pleasant  night  ?  " 

The  lady  colored  a  good  deal ;  she  seemed  somewhat 
confused,  cast  her  eyes  down,  and  putting  on  a  girlish, 
maidenly  manner,  replied  in  tones  as  soft  as  she  could 
possibly  modulate  them,  as  though  the  scenes  of  the  night 
and  of  the  last  evening  were  of  a  very  delicate  nature, 
and  only  to  be  referred  to  in  the  most  confidential  way 
between  them. 

"  Pretty  much  as  I  expected,"  and  then  raising  her  eye, 
gave  ons  expressive  look  —  only  one,  and  that  but  for  a 
moment,  and  the  lids  drooped  again.  As  she  handed  the 
cup  to  the  gentleman  there  was  another  stealthy  glance 
of  the  eye ;  it  was  full  of  meaning,  but  Mr.  Blanchard  did 
not  notice  it,  or  it  did  not  affect  him  as  intended.  He 
was  very  fond  of  his  coffee  and  his  buttered  toast,  and 
was  at  once  absorbed  in  the  matter  of  attending  to  his 
physical  necessities.  While  thus  earnestly  engaged,  with 
out  even  looking  at  the  lady,  he  remarked  : 

"  This  is  going  to  be  a  fine  day.  What  do  you  say  to  a 
ride  ?  " 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  still  the  same  low,  confidential  tone. 
She  asked  this  question  for  the  reason  that  Mr.  Blanchard 
seldom  rode  with  the  ladies.  He  had  not  been  in  the 
habit  of  accompanying  any  of  the  family,  and  preferred  his 
sulky  when  disposed  to  go  abroad.  The  proposal  was 
made  by  him  on  the  same  principle  that  the  pin  was  giv 
en.  He  wished  to  heap  up  all  the  obligations  possible. 

"  Well,  I  had  not  thought  of  it.  I  seldom  ride  in  the 
carriage,  you  know  —  perhaps  you  would  like  to  take 
Aunt  Lizzie  with  you."  Now  Aunt  Lizzie  was  the  at 
tendant  of  Eva,  and  no  great  favorite  of  Mrs.  Jemima. 
She  was  of  herself  a  respectable  person,  and  Mrs.  Jemima 
had  often  rode  with  her  in  company  with  Eva ;  but  the 
idea  that  as  matters  now  stood  between  Mrs.  Jemima  and 
the  head  of  the  house,  according  to  the  views  of  the  for 
mer,  she  should  be  lowering  herself  to  take  as  a  compan 
ion  on  a  ride  for  pleasure,  one  who  held  the  station  of  an 


232  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

inferior  in  the   family  j  it  was  horrible,  and  not  to  be 
thought  of  for  a  moment. 

"  Thank  you."  Mr.  Blanchard  looked  up,  for  there  was 
something  peculiar  going  on,  the  voice  was  broken  and 
the  handkerchief  hid  the  rest. 

«  Now  don't  —  what's  the  matter  ?  " 

«  Nothing." 

"  I  had  thought  of  going  with  you,  but  perhaps  you 
would  prefer  going  alone." 

"  There  is  not  much  pleasure  in  riding  alone." 

"  Well,  if  you  prefer  me  to  Aunt  Lizzie,  I  am  your 
chap  —  anything  to  accommodate." 

"I  certainly  should." 

"  Then  that's  settled.  I  will  tell  Joe  to  have  the  car 
riage  ready." 

There  was  a  little  something  about  this,  not  quite  sat 
isfactory  to  the  lady,  but  she  knew  Mr.  Blanchard  had 
some  odd  ways  and  queer  notions,  and  had  never  been 
particular  in  matters  of  gallantry.  She  was  to  ride  with 
him !  all  alone  with  him !  The  coachman  would  be  out 
side,  secluded  from  the  possibility  of  seeing  or  hearing 
what  was  going  on  within.  Perhaps  !  It  might  possibly 
be !  the  favor  he  had  to  ask  of  her  might  be  promulgat 
ed  !  "Well,  she  would  be  prepared ;  he  said,  "  that  he  de 
signed  proposing  to  accompany  me  —  oh,  dear !  "  and  the 
lady  sighed  a  very  heavy  sigh  ;  what  caused  it  the  reader 
must  guess,  for  it  is  beyond  our  comprehension. 

"  It  is  not  at  all  improbable  that  Mr.  Blanchard  had 
some  such  design  as  Mrs.  Jemima  suspected,  and  that  a 
confidential  communication  was  to  be  made ;  but  what 
ever  he  had  contemplated  in  that  way  was  not  carried 
out ;  in  fact,  the  ride  may  have  been  a  very  agreeable  one, 
but  not  at  all  demonstrative.  There  was  but  little  con 
versation  carried  on ;  the  lady  was  silent,  because  she  did 
not  care  to  say  anything  that  might  divert  the  mind  of 
her  companion  from  the  great  point.  She  was  in  a  state 
of  quiet  expectancy,  merely  moving  her  hand  occasion 
ally  —  the  hand  next  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  shifting  it  from 
her  lap  to  the  cushion,  and  from  the  cushion  back  to  her 
lap  —  it  was  ungloved  and  ready  for  any  emergency, 
and  to  tell  the  truth,  it  was  a  fair  specimen  of  a  fine  lady's 


LOOKING  AROUND.  233 

hand,  and  had  one  or  two  rings  on  it.  Mrs.  Jemima  had 
taken  good  care  of  her  hands,  they  had  never  been  en 
gaged  in  a  work  that  could  spoil  their  symmetry  or  deli 
cate  texture. 

Mr.  Bianchard  was  silent  too,  for  the  reason  that  he 
•was  thinking  very  hard,  and  trying  to  bring  himself  to  the 
effort  of  a  disclosure ;  the  more  he  thought,  however,  the 
less  resolute  he  became,  and  we  cannot  wonder  that  so  it 
was.  In  the  first  place,  there  was  the  natural  shyness 
which  he  possessed  in  common  with  other  men  about  re 
vealing  heart  affections ;  then  there  was  a  very  natural 
fear  that  cousin  Jemima,  as  well  as  the,  world  at  large, 
might  think  he  was  a  little  out  of  the  way  in  seeking  to 
gain  the  hand  of  one  so  distantly  removed  by  age,  and 
over  whom  he  had  been  entrusted  with  parental  guardian 
ship.  But  stronger  than  all  was  the  idea  of  humiliation. 
To  be  obliged  to  ask  the  aid  of  another  in  such  a  delicate 
matter,  was  even  to  Mr.  Bianchard,  callous  as  he  was  to 
the  finer  feelings  —  repulsive.  Twist  it  in  every  way  he 
could,  it  would  not  present  a  pleasant  aspect.  The  zeal 
which  had  inspired  him  the  day  before,  had  relaxed,  and 
left  him  without  support  when  the  time  for  action  arrived. 
Although  the  ride,  as  has  been  said,  was  not  demonstra 
tive  of  enjoyment,  yet  as  they  drew  near  to  Woodbend, 
on  their  return,  Mrs.  Jemima  felt  assured  that  nothing  of 
consequence  was  likely  to  occur,  she  ventured  to  say : 

"  How  agreeable  is  the  face  of  nature  ! " 

They  were  then  just  entering  the  winding  road  through 
the  woods. 

"  You  like  the  woods,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  there  is  a  charm  even  about  them ;  do  you  not 
think  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  they're  well  enough  ;  a  little  shady  in  dark 
days." 

"  Oh,  well,  to  me  they  seem  a  screen,  to  shut  our  dear 
home  in  from  the  cold,  gaping,  curious  world." 

Mr.  Bianchard  had  never  thought  of  that.  It  was  a 
new  idea  to  him.  He  had  wished  sometimes,  that  there 
were  a  few  openings  that  would  bring  them  a  little  more 
to  the  notice  of  the  passing  world  —  being  screened  off 
and  shut  in,  was  not  altogether  so  satisfactory ;  he  was 


234  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

glad,  however,  that  things  were  so  agreeable  to  cousin  Je 
mima,  so  he  replied : 

"  Glad  if  you  like  it." 

"  Oh,  you  know 

'  It  is  not  that  nature  has  shed  o'er  the  scene, 
Her  purest  of  purple  and  brightest  of  green. 
'Tis  not  the  soft  magic  of  streamlet  or  hill, 
Oh,  no,  it  is  something  more  exquisite  still !  ' 

and  then  Aunt  Jemima  paused. 

"  Is  that  the  whole  of  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no." 

"  Go  on,  then,  let's  hear  the  rest  —  it  goes  quite  glib  — 
I  rather  like  it." 

"  Oh,  not  now  —  some  other  time.  Have  you  never 
read  it  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  at  least,  not  that  I  know  of." 

"  I  think  it  exquisite." 

"  Well,  here  we  are.  I  hope  they've  got  dinner  ready, 
for  I  am  hungry." 

Mr.  Blanchard  was  glad  the  carriage  ride  was  over,  and 
glad  upon  the  whole  that  he  had  not  committed  himself; 
he  was  still  free,  with  his  own  secrets  within  his  own 
breast,  and  the  present  relief  he  felt,  made  him  doubtful 
as  to  the  propriety  of  the  measure  after  all ;  but  he  was 
somewhat  changeable  in  his  feelings,  and  before  evening 
came,  he  forgot  all  about  his  misgivings,  and  resolved  to 
bring  the  matter  forward  at  the  first  favorable  opportu 
nity  :  and  by  that  he  meant  when  circumstances  should 
assure  him  that  Mrs.  Jemima  was  in  a  pleasant  mood  ;  and 
he  thought  moreover,  that  it  must  be  done  before  the  ef 
fect  produced  by  the  breast  pin  should  die  away.  "  Strike 
while  the  iron  is  hot,"  he  knew  was  a  very  safe  maxim, 
and  he  felt  pretty  sure  that  the  iron  was  in  a  pretty  fail- 
state  at  present,  for  cousin  Jemima  was  unusually  atten 
tive,  and  seemed  to  like  to  keep  round  him,  and  even  to 
anticipate  little  wants  —  such  as  bringing  his  glass  of  bit 
ters  before  dinner,  and  his  box  of  cigars  after  the  cloth 
was  removed  —  trifling  matters  of  themselves,  no  doubt, 
but  showing,  as  straws  in  a  whirlwind,  the  direction  of 
the  current. 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  235 

That  evening  happened  to  be  one  of  those  witching 
periods  which  often  mark  the  summer  months,  the  air 
balmy  and  filled  with  fragrance,  the  moon  brightly  shin 
ing,  and  the  whippowil  whistling  with  unwonted  energy. 
It  was  a  night  for  lovers,  young  or  old,  and  Mrs.  Jemima 
must  have  been  affected  by  it  in  some  way  or  other,  for 
she  seemed  restless.  A  while  she  would  sit  by  the  parlor 
window,  leaning  her  head  upon  her  hand,  while  the  el 
bow  rested  on  the  hard  sill ;  possibly  it  was  not  so  easy  a 
position  as  it  seemed,  for  she  arose  soon,  and  walked  out 
as  far  as  the  garden  gate,  and  Mr.  Blanchard,  who  was 
sitting  on  the  stoop,  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  must  have 
thought  she  was  bound  for  a  walk  there  ;  but  she  merely 
paused  when  she  reached  the  gate  and  looked  up  steadily 
at  the  moon.  Mr.  Blanchard,  no  doubt  thinking  there 
must  be  something  going  on  up  there,  more  than  usual, 
brought  his  chair  from  its  leaning  position  down  on  its 
four  legs,  and  stooped  forward  a  little  to  get  a  peep  — 
the  roof  of  his  piazza  obstructing  his  vision  —  of  the  queen 
of  heaven ;  there  was  no  sign  of  an  eclipse,  nor  any 
thing  unusual  t^iat  he  could  discover,  so  he  leaned  back 
again,  and  went  on  with  his  cigar  —  it  was  almost  through. 
Cousin  Jemima,  finding  that  she  was  not  likely  to  have 
any  company  where  she  was,  returned  to  the  stoop,  and 
having  plucked  a  sprig  of  sweet  briar  as  she  ascended 
the  steps,  handed  it  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  and  then  walked  to 
the  end  of  the  stoop,  and  clasped  her  arms  around  the 
pillar.  That  position  not  affording  any  very  satisfactory 
result,  she  quietly  withdrew  her  arms,  and  walked  with  a 
slow  and  measured  step  towards  the  hall  door,  and  as  she 
was  about  to  enter,  asked  in  that  soft,  confidential  tone, 
which  she  had  assumed  ever  since  the  last  evening : 

"  Shall  I  order  the  lights  ?  " 

Mr.  Blanchard  just  then  threw  away  the  stump  of  his 
cigar,  and  set  his  chair  square  down. 

"  Lights  ?  not  for  me.  I  don't  care  about  them,  cousin, 
I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you  —  a  little  confiden 
tial  talk  —  no,  I  don't  care  about  light." 

The  lady  did  not  reply,  but  led  the  way  into  the  with 
drawing  room,  opposite  the  one  usually  occupied,  and 
took  a  seat  on  a  settee  near  a  Avindow.  Mr.  Blanchard 


236  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

wishing  of  course  to  be  near  enough,  so  that  conversa 
tion  could  be  heard  without  using  the  louder  tones,  en 
sconced  himself  beside  her  ;  probably  not  seeing  very  dis 
tinctly,  or  confused  by  the  excitement  under  which  he 
was  just  then  laboring,  did  not  allow  as  much  as  he  ought 
to  have  done  for  bulk.  He  had  placed  himself  so  very 
near,  that  if  she  had  not  quickly  have  withdrawn  a  pretty 
hand,  that  lay  gracefully  stretched  out  in  readiness  for 
circumstances,  it  would  certainly  have  been  in  a  very  un 
pleasant  predicament.  It  was  unfortunate  for  Mr.  Blanch- 
ard,  as  the  result  showed,  that  he  had  not  been  a  little 
more  careful,  for  that  hand  in  its  sudden  change  of  posi 
tion,  without  the  least  design  on  its  part,  came  somehow 
or  other  in  such  close  contact  with  that  of  the  gentleman, 
that  it  would  not  have  been  manly  in  him  to  have  retired. 
There  they  were  —  the  position  was  harmless  enough 
under  the  circumstances,  although  to  do  Mr.  Blanchard 
justice,  he  would  gladly  have  had  both  hands  to  himself. 
The  lady  held  a  handkerchief  in  the  other  hand,  which 
she  kept  in  motion ;  it  was  a  sort  of  relief  to  the  agita 
tion  of  her  mind. 

"  Cousin,"  said  Mr.  Blanchard,  "  I  have  been  for  some 
time  wishing  to  have  a  free  talk  with  you  on  a  very  deli 
cate  subject."  There  was  quite  a  twitch  to  the  delicate 
hand  that  held  his.  "  Perhaps  you  can  anticipate  what 
the  nature  of  that  subject  is.  I  have  made  up  my  mind 
to  change  my  situation." 

In  the  softest  tone,  and  scarcely  above  a  whisper,  Mrs. 
Jemima  replied : 

"  Have  you  told  the  children  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not,  nor  do  I  intend  to,  until  my  plans  are 
accomplished,  and  then  I  have  no  doubt,  with  you  to  aid 
me,  and  smooth  the  way,  all  can  be  made  right  enough." 

Mrs.  Jemima  put  up  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and 
in  broken  accents  replied  : 

"  I  had  never  thought,  when  I  lost  my  dear  husband, 
that  I  could  ever  give  my  heart  to  another ;  but  if  I  can 
make  you  happy  "  —  there  was  a  pause  here  for  a  moment. 
Mr.  Blanchard  was  too  astounded  to  speak ;  his  tongue 
literally  cleaved  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth,  everything 
looked  double  to  him,  and  seemed  to  be  moving ;  but  be- 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  .  237 

fore  he  could  clearly  comprehend  the  peculiar  meaning  of 
her  reply,  the  lady  continued,  and  as  she  spoke,  laid  her 
head  upon  his  shoulder.  m  "I  cannot  trifle  with  you.  I 
know  what  you  would  say,  and  that  it  is  hard  for  you  to 
say  it.  Your  wish  is  complied  with  —  my  heart  is  yours, 
and  has  long  been  yours ;  if  I  can  only  make  you  happy 
is  is  all  I  ask." 

Yes,  if  she  could  only  do  that !  Mr.  Blanchard  would 
have  thanked  her,  or  any  other  of  the  human  family, 
for  a  more  utterly  confounded  and  utterly  wretched  man, 
he  did  not  think  was  there  in  existence. 

He  sat  motionless  and  speechless,  trying  to  gather  up 
his  thoughts  sufficiently  to  decide  what  to  do.  He  had 
heard  of  people  getting  into  tight  places  —  he  had  him 
self  been  in  such  difficulties  —  but  there  was  nothing  he 
had  ever  heard  or  conceived  possible,  that  could  be  liken 
ed  to  his  present  situation.  If  there  could  only  be  a  cry 
of  fire,  or  even  considerable  of  an  earthquake,  a  whirl 
wind,  a  flash  of  lightning  —  anything  that  was  not  death 
itself,  would  be  a  relief.  Something,  however,  did  occur 
very  opportune  for  his  present  dilemma,  for  a  noise  was 
heard  in  the  kitchen  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  house, 
and  presently  there  was  a  rushing  of  servants  through  the 
hall,  accompanied  with  exclamations  of  terror.  Of  course 
it  would  not  do  for  Mrs.  Jemima  to  be  seen  under  present 
circumstances,  nor  was  Mr.  Blanchard  in  any  humor  to 
suffer  martyrdom  in  the  cause  of  gallantry  —  he  had  suf 
fered  enough.  So,  as  soon  then,  as  the  sound  of  approach 
ing  footsteps  was  heard,  he  sprang  forward  without  say 
ing  "  with  your  leave,"  and  was  at  the  door  as  two  maid 
servants  rushed  up. 

"  What's  the  matter !  What's  the  matter !  What's  all 
the  noise  for  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  matter  enough,  sir !  There's  a  man  in  the 
kitchen." 

"  A  man  in  the  kitchen !  What  sort  of  a  man  ?  What 
does  he  want  ?  " 

"  We  don't  know,  sir,  but  he  talks  very  strange." 

"  What  did  you  let  him  in  for  ?  " 

"  He  came  in  of  his  own  accord,  sir,  and  stood  in  the 
door  and  looked  round  the  kitchen,  and  says  he, '  Are  you 


238  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

all  alive  here !  it's  a  dying  woi'ld  —  people  are  dying  all 
around,'  and  then  he  began  to  say, '  Hark,  from  the  tombs 
a  doleful  sound  !  "  We  did  not  want  to  hear  no  more,  so 
we  run  away.  He's  surely  crazy,  Mr.  Blanchard,  and  he 
looks  like  a  strong  man." 

Mr.  Blanchard  had  no  experience  that  could  give  him 
faith  to  encounter  persons  who  were  without  reason,  and 
so  he  very  earnestly  asked  : 

"  Where  is  Joe  ?  " 

"  He  is  off  to  the  tavern,  sir." 

"  This  was  unpleasant,  for  there  being  no  other  man  be 
sides  the  master  himself,  it  necessarily  devolved  upon  him 
to  stand  between  danger  and  the  females  looking  to  him 
for  protection,  and  he  must  meet  it  at  once.  Just  at  that 
moment  a  man  was  seen  approaching  from  the  further  end 
of  the  hall,  having  emerged  from  the  kitchen.  He  walk 
ed  slowly,  striking  his  cane  on  the  floor  as  he  advanced, 
and  talking  to  himself.  It  was  certainly  a  case  of  mania, 
and  Mr.  Blanchai'd  was  at  his  wits'  end  to  know  how  to 
manage  it.  He  had  a  gun  in  the  house,  but  it  was  not 
loaded,  and  then  he  had  some  humane  doubts  as  to  the 
propriety  of  thus  dealing  with  the  matter ;  in  fact,  as  the 
stranger  came  near  the  light  which  one  of  the  girls  held 
in  her  hand,  his  countenance  was  by  no  means  terrifying. 
He  had,  in  fact,  quite  a  respectable  and  even  venerable 
appearance.  His  foretop  was  bald  and  showed  a  firmly 
arched  crown ;  the  features  of  his  face  seemed  somewhat 
marred  by  exposure  to  the  weather,  but  they  were  well 
formed,  and  gave  assurance  that  in  youth  or  under  more 
favorable  circumstances,  he  must  have  passed  for  good 
looking. 

"  The  girls,"  said  he,  "  seem  afraid  of  me  ;  la,  I  would 
not  hurt  anybody.  People  die  fast  enough  without  any 
one's  taking  pains  to  get  them  out  the  way.  They  say 
you  are  a  rich  man  —  I  don't  know  but  you  are  —  your 
riches  can't  save  you  from  being  put  under  the  clods  of 
the  valley.  We  are  a  dying  race  —  can  you  tell  me  how 
we  are  to  help  ourselves  ?  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  you  are 
a  rich  man,  or  people  say  you  are.  Now,  if  your  riches 
can't  save  you  from  getting  into  the  sexton's  hands,  what 
good  are  they  going  to  do  you  ?  Shan't  I  write  you  an 


LOOKING   ABOTnO).  239 


epitaph  ?  I  am  handy  at  that  ;  give  me  pen,  ink  and  paper 
and  I  will  write  you  quite  a  showy  one,  extolling  your 
virtues,  if  you  are  distinguished  for  any,  and  sheering 
over  your  faults,  and  all  I  ask  is  a  glass  of  eider,  and  a 
night's  lodging  in  the  barn." 

During  the  whole  of  this  scene,  Mrs.  Jemima,  who  had 
waked  from  her  delirious  dream  by  the  sudden  jumping 
up  of  Mr.  Blanchard,  arose  quickly  and  followed  him,  de 
termined  to  share  every  danger  with  the  man  to  whom 
she  had  just  given  her  heart,  although  a  little  chagrined 
that  he  did  not  manifest  more  reasonable  excitement  on 
receiving  the  gift.  Fearful  lest  he  should  venture  his 
precious  person  into  the  kitchen,  or  elsewhere,  within  the 
grasp  of  some  dangerous  outlaw,  she  clutched  fast  to 
one  arm  and  kept  whispering,  "  be  careful,  dear,"  "  do  be 
prudent,  for  my  sake,"  "  remember  your  life  is  doubly  pre 
cious,  now."  Mr.  Blanchard  did  not  think  so  ;  it  had  nev 
er  before  seemed  to  him  so  little  worth  ;  he  did  not  know 
but  it  was  completely  spoiled  —  that  is,  all  that  remained 
of  it  —  and  he  did  not  like  being  held  so  tightly,  espec 
ially  as  there  were  other  persons  present.  Whether  the 
girls  had  noticed  the  interest  Mrs.  Jemima  took  in  the 
gentleman,  is  doubtful  ;  they  were  at  first  really  frighten 
ed,  and  when  the  foundation  for  fear  was  removed,  they 
began  to  be  much  amused.  The  stranger,  however,  no 
ticed  that  the  lady  was  anxious  and  troubled. 

"You  need'nt  be  at  all  afraid,  madam.  I  don't  mean  to 
hurt  your  husband,  or  anybody  else  ;  he's  big  enough  to 
master  such  as  I  am.  Lord,  what  poor  creatures  we  are  ; 
we  are  all  afraid  of  dying,  and  yet  we  have  got  to.  That 
pretty  face  of  yours  has  got  to  be  shrivelled  all  up.  Did 
you  ever  see  a  skull?  if  you  have  not  I  can  show  you  one. 
Here,  girls,  hold  that  candle."  So  he  commenced  haul 
ing  round  a  bag  that  was  slung  upon  his  back,  apparent 
ly  with  the  design  of  producing-  the  article  ;  there  was, 
however,  a  general  exclamation  of  alarm  —  Mrs.  Jemima 
running  off  into  the  parlor  and  the  girls  towards  the 
kitchen,  where  they  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  head 
of  the  coachman  peeping  into  the  hall,  and  endeavoring 
to  ascertain  what  caused  such  unusual  disturbance. 


240  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  Oh,  Joe,  do  come !  Here  is  a  crazy  man,  and  Mr. 
Blanchard  wants  you  to  put  him  out." 

With  that  Master  Joe  steps  forward,  and  when  near 
enough  to  be  recognized  by  the  stranger,  the  latter  puts 
out  his  hand. 

"  Well,  here  I  am.  I  am  alive,  and  that  is  more  than 
many  poor  devils  can  say.  You  ain't  dead  yet,  I  see. 
Can't  you  give  me  a  cup  of  sanctum  and  a  place  on  the 
mow  ?  I've  come  all  the  way  from  Mellbourne ;  they  are 
dying  there  like  rotten  sheep  —  two  funerals  in  one  day. 
I  don't  see  but  we  shall  all  die  —  we  have  got  to,  there  is 
no  help  for  it.  That  man  there  is  rich,  no  doubt;. his 
riches  wont  save  him,  the  worms  will  have  him  yet.  Man 
is  born  unto  trouble  as  the  sparks  fly  upward."  This  was 
said  while  walking  back  in  company  with  the  coachman, 
who  knew  him  well,  and  to  whom  Mr.  Blanchard  was 
quite  ready  to  commit  him.  He  heard,  however,  the 
quotation  from  scripture,  and  thought  within  himself — 
the  man  may  be  crazy,  but  he  has  uttered  a  terrible  truth. 
"  Man  is  born  to  trouble,  and  there  is  no  telling  where  or 
when  he  may  get  into  it." 

Mr.  Blanchard,  not  caring  to  venture  into  the  presence 
of  Mrs.  Jemima,  betook  himself  to  the  piazza,  and  there 
tried  to  arrange  his  thoughts.  He  was  in  a  dilemma  of 
the  worst  kind.  His  grand  plan  for  gaining  what  he 
thought  would  be  a  valuable  assistant,  had  failed,  and  his 
eyes  were  opened  to  the  fact  that  while  he  had  designs 
upon  the  heart  of  another,  his  own  was  ready  to  be  grasp 
ed  in  a  way  not  at  all  to  his  mind.  But  what  was  he  to 
do  ?  If  matters  were  left  as  in  their  present  condition, 
it  would  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  bargain  was  made  ; 
to  that  he  would  never  consent.  She  must  be  undeceived. 
But  how  to  do  it !  What  would  she  say !  What  would 
she  do !  How  could  they  live  together  after  this !  Again 
and  again  he  cursed  his  stupidity  in  not  being  more 
awake  to  demonstrations  on  her  part.  Something  must 
be  done,  however.  Matters  could  not  be  worse  —  that  is, 
so  far  as  he  could  see.  Suddenly  springing  from  his  chair 
he  was  about  to  seek  the  object  of  his  solicitude,  when  ho 
perceived  her  standing  in  the  doorway,  close  by  where  he 
had  been  sitting.  Somewhat  startled,  for  he  almost  feared 


LOOKING   AROUND.  241 

he  had  been  talking  aloud  to  himself  instead  of  thinking, 
so  very  exciting  were  the  interests  he  had  been  ponder 
ing,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  is  it !  " 

"  Yes,  dear,  did  you  want  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do  want  you.    I  want  to  say  a  word  or  two." 

So  Mrs.  Jemima  avoiding  the  sitting-room,  where  lights 
had  been  placed,  passed  quietly  into  the  one  where  the 
scene  so  full  of  joy  to  her,  had  so  recently  transpired,  and 
placed  herself  in  the  identical  spot  she  had  previously  oc 
cupied.  Mr.  Blanchard,  to  avoid  all  collision  the  second 
time,  took  the  precaution  to  place  himself  upon  a  chair  at 
sufficient  distance  to  prevent  any  danger  of  having  his 
shoulder  made  a  pillow  for  any  body's  head  ;  his  hands  he 
thrust  into  his  pockets. 

"  Cousin  Jemima,  I  wish  to  have  an  explanation  of  mat 
ters  between  us.  I  fear  you  did  not  understand  me." 

"  Oh,  yes,  dear,  I  understand  perfectly  —  I  know  what 
you  meant.  I  knew  it  was  a  trial  to  you  to  express  all 
your  feelings  —  it  was  not  necessary  —  we  have  both  been 
through  with  such  scenes  before;  we  are  neither  of  us 
children.  I  am  satisfied  if  you  are ;  all  I  want  is  to  make 
you  happy.  I  felt  a  little  anxious,  to  be  sure,  about  the 
children,  but  you  relieved  my  mind  on  that  point." 

Mr.  Blanchard  trembled  all  over ;  he  saw  clearly  that 
the  case  was  a  desperate  one.  To  tell  a  woman  to  her 
face  who  had  thus  exposed  her  feelings,  that  he  did  not 
care  for  her  —  that  his  only  design  was  to  engage  her  in 
terest  on  his  behalf,  in  favor  of  another,  was  putting  a 
little  more  on  human  nature  —  at  least,  on  woman's  nature, 
than  it  would  stand.  How  could  he  do  it !  There  would 
no  doubt  be  an  outcry ;  there  might  be  fainting,  or  other 
disagreeable  events.  Servants  must  be  called,  perhaps 
the  doctor  sent  for,  and  the  whole  town  be  made  aware 
of  the  ridiculous  concern.  So  he  sat  in  silence  more  con 
founded  than  ever  —  a  very  miserable  man,  and  with  no 
prospect  ahead,  of  any  relief.  Mrs.  Jemima,  however,  had 
more  to  say. 

"  I  suppose  I  might  have  put  you  off  as  young  girls  are 
apt  to  do,  while  they  wished  to  say  yes,  at  the  same 
time ;  but  it  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  dignified.  You 
11 


242  LOOKING    AEOinSTD. 

need  not  disturb  your  mind  about  explanations.  I  know 
men  in  general  are  loth  to  expose  their  feelings,  even  to 
one  they  love,  and  I  know  that  to  you  it  must  be  very 
trying,  for  you  never  talk  much,  but  your  kind  attentions 
have  been  too  marked  for  me  to  mistake  their  true  mean 
ing" 

Mr.  Blan chard  no  doubt  heard  all  these  words,  although 
spoken  in  a  low,  confidential  tone ;  but  whether  he  under 
stood  them  is  doubtful,  for  he  was  in  such  a  collapsed 
state  that  his  mind  went  wildering  about  like  a  small  boat 
in  a  gale  of  wind  without  a  rudder.  He  perspired  freely, 
breathed  thick  —  wanted  to  say  something,  but  had  not 
the  coui-age  to  do  so ;  at  length  driven  to  desperation, 
his  voice  found  utterance.  He  spoke  in  quite  a  quick  and 
hard  tone. 

"Jemima!" 

"  What,  dear !  "  and  the  lady  arose  and  stood  by  him, 
and  placing  her  hand  upon  his  head,  began  to  smooth 
down  his  side  locks. 

"  Do,  for  goodness  sake  "  jerking  his  head  quickly  away. 
"  Don't,  I  don't  like  anybody  meddling  with  my  hair," 
and  starting  from  his  seat,  he  walked  out  on  the  piazza, 
drew  forth  a  cigar,  and  lighting  it,  commenced  walking 
up  and  down  with  more  rapid  steps  than  he  was  accus 
tomed  to  take. 

Mrs.  Jemima  thinking  this  one  of  his  odd  streaks,  though 
a  little  nettled  at  first,  hushed  down  all  bad  feelings  by 
consoling  herself  with  the  idea  that  when  he  was  once 
buckled  to  her,  or  she  to  him,  she  could  soon  cure  all  such 
eccentricities. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

» 

The  village  of  Woodburn  was  in  quite  a  commotion, 
in  consequence  of  the  rumor  that  had  become  pretty  gen 
erally  spread  through  the  place,  and  which  had  been  hint 
ed  in  a  previous  chapter,  that  the  Rev.  Doctor  Ransom 


LOOKING    AROUND.  243 

had  received  a  call  from  the  city.  The  Presbyterian  par 
ish  was  more  particularly  concerned,  but  the  reverend 
gentleman  had  by  his  wise  and  prudent  management,  his 
conciliatory  manners,  and  his  enlarged  and  liberal  views 
in  regard  to  denominational  differences,  so  won  the  good 
will  of  all  classes,  that  the  whole  circle  of  religious  socie 
ties  in  the  vicinity  were  aroused  by  the  intelligence ;  and 
it  was  a  common  topic  of  interest  in  many  families  that 
never  attended  his  ministrations  —  except  on  extra  occa 
sions —  and  that  not  because  they  did  not  relish  his 
preaching,  but  for  the  reason  that  he  had  always  enjoined 
upon  all  with  whom  he  had  come  in  contact,  that  it  was 
the  bounden  duty  of  Christians  to  be  in  their  own  places 
of  worship,  and  by  their  presence  and  aid  do  all  in  their 
power  to  further  the  cause  of  Christ  in  the  peculiar  circle 
with  which  they  had  connected  themselves.  That  the  • 
church  should  be  broken  up  into  so  many  different  sects, 
he  indeed  lamented ;  but  since  it  seemed  impossible  for  all 
minds  to  comprehend  alike  the  teachings  of  the  word  of 
God,  as  to  matters  of  minor  importance,  it  need  be  no 
hindrance  to  the  exercise  of  brotherly  love,  nor  to  the 
building  up  of  the  walls  of  Zion,  if  each  in  that  part  of 
the  wall  allotted  to  them  worked  faithfully  and  with  an 
earnest  zeal.  The  structure  would  be  completed  in  time, 
and  perhaps  more  beautiful  from  its  variety. 

No  sooner  had  the  tidings  reached  the  ears  of  Rev.  Mr. 
Janeway,  than  he  resolved  at  once  to  ascertain  the  truth, 
by  a  personal  call.  To  him  the  news  was  not  only  a  sur 
prise,  but  a  source  of  alarm.  He  had  enjoyed  such  un 
alloyed  pleasure  from  the  intimacy  which  now  for  some 
years  had  been  maintained  with  this  fellow  watchman, 
and  he  received  so  much  benefit,  too,  both  in  his  own  spir 
itual  growth  and  through  that,  in  the  spiritual  growth  of 
his  especial  charge,  that  he  could  not  think  of  losing  such 
a  fi-iend  and  helper,  without  at  least  a  manifestation  of  , 
his  sincere  regret. 

As  he  was  about  leaving  his  home  for  the  purpose  of  \ 
making  the  call,  a  gig  drove  up  to  his  door,  and  two  gen 
tlemen  alighted.     One  of  them  at  once  he  recognized  as 
an  old  classmate  in  Columbia  College,  and  he  stepped 


244  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

. 

from  his  door  and  walked  to  his  gate  to  meet  and  wel 
come  him. 

"My  good  friend  Anderson,  how  very  glad  I  am  to  see 
you." 

"  Ah,  Janeway,  my  good  fellow,  how  are  you  ?  Well,  I 
know  from  your  looks.  You  ministers  up  here  are  hav 
ing  pretty  nice  times  —  good  living  and  all  that." 

"  We  have  no  reason  to  find  fault  with  the  living ;  it  is 
plain,  but  wholesome  and  plenty  of  it." 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Julius  Highfly,  from  New  York,  Rev. 
Mr.  Janeway." 

"  Please  walk  in,  gentlemen,  and  I  will  have  your  horse 
attended  to." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear  fellow,  we  can't  stop  but  a  few  min 
ute,  but  Highfly  and  myself,  having  come  up  on  a  little 
business  for  our  church,  I  thought  I  could  not  leave  the 
place,  without  calling  to  say  how  do  you  do.  We  will  go 
in  though,  and  sit  a  few  minutes." 

As  the  gentlemen  were  about  taking  seats,  Mr.  Janeway 
remarked  : 

"  I  understood  you  just  now,  as  saying  you  were  up  here 
on  church  business.  Has  it  anything  to  do  with  the  ru 
mor  that  is  spread  about  here,  of  a  call  to  the  city  having 
been  given  to  Mr.  Ransom  ?  " 

"  Is  there  such  a  rumor  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  it  this  morning,  and  was  about  going  to 
call  on  brother  Ransom,  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  mat 
ter." 

"  I  believe  we  can  save  you  that  trouble ;  don't  you 
think  so,  Highfly  ?  " 

"  We  can,  most  assuredly,  reverend  sir,  having  been  ap 
pointed  a  committee  —  Mr.  Anderson  and  myself —  to  de 
liver  the  call  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in Street, 

to  the  Rev.  Doctor  Ransom,  of  Woodburn.  We  have 
this  morning  put  said  call  into  his  hands ;  so,  reverend  sir, 
you  see  that  rumors  are  not  always  to  be  despised  ;  some 
times  they  tell  the  truth." 

"  In  this  case  I  should  think  Madam  Rumor  had  antici 
pated  the  truth  a  little.  She  has  been  reporting  the  mat 
ter  for  some  days,  when,  as  you  now  say,  Mr.  Highfly,  you 
have  only  this  morning  absolutely  placed  the  document 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  245 

into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Ransom.  Do  you  think,  gentlemen, 
that  he  will  accept  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  of  it,  not  the  least  doubt  of  it  in  the  world," 
said  Mr.  Highfly.  "  Why  should  he  hesitate  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  cannot  say.  Perhaps  he  has  given  you  reason 
for  such  assurance  ;  there  may  be  a  cause  for  willingness 
on  his  part  to  listen  favorably  to  such  a  proposition ;  but  I 
should  have  doubted  it,  if  you  were  not  so  positive." 

"  Positive  ! "  said  Mr.  Highfly.  "  Why,  my  good  sir, 
only  think  of  the  proposition  itself.  One  of  the  most  re 
spectable  congregations  in  the  city,  and  a  salary  of  twen 
ty-five  hundred  dollars  a  year,  and  the  perquisites,  in  the 
way  of  presents  and  marriage  fees,  quite  considerable  ; 
and  more  than  that,  sir,  a  larger  sphere,  a  greater  stimu 
lus  to  mental  exertion.  He  can  have  but  a  small  congre 
gation  here,  and  not  much  to  encourage  mental  effort.  I 
presume  the  number  of  respectable  hearers  in  such  a  place 
as  this,  must  be  very  inconsiderable." 

Mr.  Jane  way  might  have  enlightened  the  gentleman  on 
some  of  these  points,  but  he  knew  it  would  be  difficult  to 
make  one  so  ignorant  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  country 
as  he  appeared  to  be,  comprehend  the  true  state  of  things, 
he  therefore  merely  replied  : 

"  If  Doctor  Ransom  should  feel  it  his  duty  to  leave  us, 
here,  I  shall  certainly  regret  it,  not  only  for  my  own  sake, 
but  also  for  the  whole  town.  I  think  he  would  be  a  great 
loss." 

"  That  remark  of  yours,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Ander 
son,  "  speaks  well  for  you  and  the  doctor  also.  It  is  not 
always  that  our  two  sects  get  on  so  well  together ;  but  I 
am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  so  well  of  him.  I  think.he  is 
the  very  man  for  us,  and  I  think,  my  good  sir,  we  shall  get 
him." 

"  How  came  you,  if  it  is  a  proper  question,  to  know 
about  Doctor  Ransom  ?  Has  he  preached  for  you  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  but  some  of  us  heard  him  preach  a  ser 
mon  before  the  Synod,  and  it  struck  us  as  something  out 
of  the  usual  track  —  something  more  than  common  —  so 
the  session  of  our  church  invited  him  to  supply  our  pul 
pit  for  the  next  Sabbath.  He  declined,  however,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  I  forget  now  what  it  was,  but  we  meant 


246  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

to  keep  track  of  him,  and  therefore  on  two  different  Sab 
baths,  within  the  last  six  weeks,  we  have  sent  up  two 
committees  of  three  each  of  our  leading  men,  to  hear  him, 
you  see,  in  his  own  home,  when  he  would  not  be  expect 
ing  company,  and  would,  of  course,  have  no  chance  to 
make  extra  preparations." 

"  Friend  Anderson,  allow  me  to  interrupt  you.  You 
have  altogether  mistaken  the  character  of  Doctor  Ran 
som  if  you  suppose  he  could,  under  any  circumstances, 
make,  as  you  say,  extra  preparations." 

"  Not  under  any  circumstances  ?  "  Q 

"  I  am  very  confident  that  my  assertion  is  correct.  I  do 
not  believe  it  would  be  possible  for  Doctor  Ransom  to  put 
a  single  sentence  or  word  in  any  sermon  he  was  writing, 
with  reference  to  its  pleasing  this  or  that  man,  or  this  or 
that  audience,  any  further  than  this.  If  he  knew  for  a 
certainty,  that  persons  who  differed  from  him  or  his  de 
nomination  on  minor  points  —  Episcopalians,  or  Metho 
dists,  or  Baptists,  or  even  Roman  Catholics  would  be  in 
attendance  at  the  house  of  worship  where  he  officiates,  he 
would  avoid  any  expressions  that  might  wound  their  sen 
sibilities  —  this  I  know  he  is  conscientious  about.  But  as 
to  making  an  effort,  he  can  never  be  induced  to  aim  at  it. 
1  speak  now,  in  reference  to  the  remark  of  yours,  that,  'if 
he  expected  company,  he  would  wish  to  make  extra  prep 
arations.'  " 

"  Oh,  well,  friend  Janeway,  you  know  we  all,  on  cer 
tain  occasions,  like  to  appear  to  the  best  advantage,  —  *  to 
put  our  best  foot  forward,' — it  is  natural  you  know." 

Mr.  Janeway- did  not  reply*  to  this  remark ;  he  had  said 
what  he  thought  all  sufficient  to  vindicate  the  character 
of  his  friend  from  a  charge  not  very  honorable,  either  to 
his  visitor,  or  the  gentleman  whom  it  implicated  ;  but 
there  was  a  question  which  suggested  itself  to  him,  and 
which  he  felt  might  as  well  be  put  now  as  ever,  and 
therefore,  after  a  few  moments  he  asked  : 

"  How  is  it,  friend  Anderson,  that  you  have  ascertained 
that  there  was  any  special  reason  why  a  call  should  be 
given  to  Doctor  Ransom  ?  There  certainly  is  no  dissat 
isfaction  with  him  on  the  part  of  his  people,  or  I  think  I 


LOOKING   AROUND.  247 

should  have  heard  of  it ;  and  from  my  intimacy  with  him, 
I  feel  very  sure  he  is  not  dissatisfied  with  his  people." 

"  That  is  the  very  reason,"  replied  Mr.  Highfly,  "  that 
we  have  selected  Mr.  Ransom.  You  see,  my  dear  sir,  we 
want  to  get  the  best,  the  very  best  man  that  can  be  found, 
and  don't  you  see,  my  good  sir,  that  the  surest  sign  that 
one  can  have  that  a  minister  is  the  right  man  for  us,  is 
that  he  is  popular  with  his  own  people  ;  and  the  more  they 
don't  like  to  part  with  him,  the  more  we  want  to  get  him ; 
don't  you  see,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  believe  I  understand  you,  Mr.  Highfly,  and  yet,  I 
should  think  in  looking  around  for  one  to  fill  a  vacant  pul 
pit,  it  would  be  the  most  natural  course,  and  the  most 
proper  one  too,  that  those  ministers  should  be  applied  to, 
who  may  not  have  a  charge  on  hand,  or  to  some  one  who, 
for  peculiar  reasons,  may  wish  to  change  his  relations  as  a 
minister." 

"  Ah,  well,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Mi*.  Highfly,  tapping 
his  snuff  box,  preparatory  to  handing  it  round, — an  admir 
able  way  in  old  times  of  smoothing  over  difficulties, 
"  You  know  there  is  in  general  —  I  say  in  general,  because 
there  may  be  exceptions  —  there  are  always  exceptions  to 
a  general  rule,  but  in  general,  and  where  you  come  to  ex 
amine  into  the  case,  you  will  find  that  the  reason  folks  are 
out  of  a  situation,  is  the  very  reason  you  don't  want  them ; 
don't  you  see,  my  good  sir  ?  " 

"  But  there  are  many  young  men  who  have  completed 
their  preparatory  studies,  and  have  never  yet  had  the 
charge  of  a  people." 

"  That  is  true,  sir.  There  .are  a  good  many  such,  and 
we  have  had  quite  a  number  on  trial,  but  you  see,  my  dear 
sir,  in  looking  round  such  a  city  as  ours,  you  will  find 
a  large  number  of  churches  scattered  here  and  there,  of 
different  denominations  to  be  sure,  and  yet  separated  by 
such  slight  marks  of  difference,  that  really  one  would  be 
puzzled  in  making  a  choice,  as  to  which  he  should  attend  ; 
that  is,  in  which  he  would  hear  the  truths  preached  which 
he  thought  of  most  consequence.  There  is,  for  instance, 
the  Presbyterian  like  our  own,  the  Dutch  Reformed,  and 
the  Scotch  Reformed.  Now,  these  different  churches  are, 
some  of  them,  so  contiguous  to  each  other,  that  it  is  as 


248  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

easy  for  many  of  the  congregations  to  attend  one,  as  the 
other.  Now,  you  see,  my  dear  sir,  how  that  works.  To 
keep  your  people  together  and  build  up  your  church,  you 
must  have  a  popular  minister,  and  you  must  have  a  hand 
some  church,  and  you  must  have  fine  music.  There  is  a 
good  deal  of  tact  and  management  to  keep  things  as  they 
should  be  ;  we  have  to  look  round  every  which  way,  in  a 
city  like  ours,  and  keep  our  eyes  wide  open." 

The  reverend  gentleman  had  known  something  of  the 
city  in  foi-mer  days,  having  been  born  and  brought  up 
there,  and  occasionally  now,  each  year,  spending  several 
days  there.  He  was  well  aware  that  in  business,  compe 
tition  exerted  a  mighty  influence,  and  for  the  benefit  of 
all.  He  believed  also,  that  it  had  influence  over  many  in 
social  life,  and  that,  sometimes  for  good,  and  sometimes 
for  evil ;  but  that  it  should  have  insinuated  itself  into  the 
church  of  Christ,  and  have  gained  such  power,  as  to  be 
able. openly  to  boast  itself  as  one  of  the  principal  aids  in 
building  up  the  holy  cause,  was  a  new  light  to  him,  and 
not  a  very  pleasant  one,  and  being  somewhat  startled  by 
the  revelation,  he  was  so  absorbed  in  thought,  that  he 
made  no  answer  when  the  gentleman  came  to  a  pause, 
and  the  latter  after  a  few  moments'  silence,  commenced 
again. 

"You  know,  reverend  sir,  a  city  congregation  wants 
preaching  of  a  peculiar  cast ;  they  want  the  truth  to  be 
sure,  but  it  must  come  to  them  in  the  best  dress  ;  the  taste 
of  the  people  becomes  acute  and  refined,  and  to  put  a 
man  in  the  pulpit  of  mere  common  abilities  —  why,  you 
see  they  can't  stand  it.  They  must  have  the  best  men 
that  can  be  got,  and  they  are  willing  to  pay  for  them." 

Mi*.  Anderson  had  been  for  some  time  a  listener,  and 
while  his  companion  was  talking,  he  kept  his  eye  on  the 
reverend  gentleman,  as  though  curious  to  mark  how  the 
sentiments  advanced,  were  received ;  and  as  the  last  idea 
came  out,  he  could  not  but  notice  the  quiet  smile  playing 
round  the  handsome  mouth  of  his  friend  Janeway. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Highfly,  it  ain't  best  for  us  to  say 
too  much  about  our  having  the  best  men.  We  have  some 
men  of  talent  no  doubt,  and  we  have  some  as  much  the 
other  way.  My  friend  Janeway,  you  see,  knows  the  city 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  249 

and  its  ways  pretty  well ;  but  tell  us  plainly,  Janeway, 
what  you  think.  You  know  what  we  city  folks  want,  and 
you  know  Doctor  Ransom.  Is  he  not  the  very  man  we 
ought  to  have  ?  " 

"  I  can  give  you  my  opinion,  friend  Anderson,  but  it 
may  not  coincide  with  yours.  As  to  Doctor  Ransom,  I 
believe  him  to  be  a  true  gospel  minister.  He  has  a  large 
store  of  general  knowledge  ;  he  is  an  industrious  student. 
He  has  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  common  sense,  and 
has  studied  mankind  as  well  as  his  Bible,  and  can  see 
through  a  false  guise  and  detect  erroneous  views,  as  quick 
ly  as  any  one  I  ever  knew ;  but  he  has  a  large  heart,  and 
will  not  condemn  a  man,  or  a  sect,  because  he  may  see 
some  things  he  does  not  approve.  If  you  expect  in  him 
a  preacher  who  will  be  strenuous  in  holding  up  his  own 
denomination,  or  denouncing  others,  you  will  be  disap 
pointed.  If  you  expect  a  preacher  who  will  give  you 
what  is  styled  a  fine  discourse,  you  will  be  disappointed 
there,  too.  If  you  expect  a  man  who  will  enter  heartily 
into  the  measures  now  pursued,  for  the  moral  reformation 
of  mankind,  you  will  be  disappointed.  His  only  hope  of 
redeeming  man  from  the  power  of  sin,  is  in  the  spirit  of 
God  through  the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  Jesus  Christ 
will  be  held  up  first  and  last,  as  the  power  of  God  unto 
salvation,  the  only  Redeemer,  the  healer  of  the  nations. 
His  blood  the  only  sacrifice,  his  spirit  the  only  purifier. 
He  has  studied  the  human  heart,  his  own  as  well  as  oth 
ers,  and  he  knows  how  deceitful  it  is,  and  how  much  more 
ready  we  are  to  engage  in  outward  acts,  and  to  be  diligent 
in  working,  than  in  purifying  ourselves  from  sin,  and 
bringing  every  act  and  thought  into  obedience  to  the  will 
of  Christ.  So  much  for  my  opinion  of  him.  Now  as  to 
being  the  man  you  want,  you  can  now  as  well  answer  that 
question  as  I  can  ;  but  my  opinion  is,  that  there  is  nothing 
peculiar  in  the  character  or  intelligence  of  a  congregation 
in  the  city,  that  requires  such  a  different  style  or  superior 
abilities,  than  is  needed  or  fully  appreciated  here ;  in  fact, 
I  do  not  believe  there  are  more  persons  in  the  largest  con 
gregations  in  the  city,  as  able  to  analyze  a  discourse  from 
the  pulpit,  and  to  judge  understandinglv  of  its  merits, 
11* 


LOOKING   ABOUND. 

th:m  Doctor  Ransom  has  among  his  audience  on  every 
Sabbath  day.  , 

When  the  reverend  gentleman  paused,  the  two  visitors 
looked  at  each,  other  in  silence,  Mr.  Anderson  merely 
nodding  his  head  and  winking,  as  much  as  to  say  —  he 
has  got  the  right  of  it.  Mr.  Highfly,  not  exactly  falling 
in  with  the  views  and  feelings  of  his  companion,  made  no 
response.  There  were  some  things  which  had  been  said 
relating  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  gentleman,  whose  chai'- 
acter  as  a  preacher  had  been  thus  unfolded,  that  rather 
startled  him.  Mr.  Highfly  was  strong  for  an  "  active  Chris 
tianity,"  by  that,  meaning  strenuous  efforts  among  its  out 
works.  He  had  more  faith  in  the  machinery  of  religion,  than 
his  friend  Anderson.  He  was  for  breaking  down  the  strong 
holds  of  sin  and  error, by  making  battle  on  their  more  prom 
inent  manifestation  ;  he  was  for  driving  intemperance  out 
of  the  land,  and  licentiousness,  and  all  such  demonstrative 
evils,  vi  et  armis.  He  would  have  the  terrible  heresy  of 
Rome  held  up  in  all  its  abomination,  and  the  preacher,  like 
a  public  crier,  denouncing  it  by  name,  and  condemning  all 
its  followers  to  worse  flames  than  those  of  purgatory.  Mr. 
Highfly  was  strong  against  intemperance,  and  in  his  zeal 
to  put  down  that  evil,  would  unite  heart  and  hand  with  a 
reformed  drunkard,  whose  conversion  to  cold  water  had 
not  yet  stood  the  test  of  a  month,  and  would  hold  him  up 
as  a  model,  and  urge  him  to  tell  in  public  his  experience, 
and  seemed  to  feel  that  this  external  reformation  covered 
over  all  other  delinquencies,  and  even  obviated  the  neces 
sity  of  a  change  of  heart — at  least,  that  important  item 
was  left  out  of  sight.  In  fine,  Mr.  Highfly  was  one  of 
your,  "go-ahead,  knock-down,  clear-the-road,  effervescing 
Christians,  who  are  ever  ready  to  denounce  evil  and  evil 
doers,  and  even  their  fellow  Christians,  who,  according  to 
their  view,  do  not  "  come  up  to  the  help  of  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty."  And  Anderson  knew  this,  and  was 
not  a  little  pleased  to  learn  that  the  minister  they  had  se 
lected,  would  not  be  likely  to  fall  in  with  such  views." 

"  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Janeway,  who,  having  replied  to 
their  queries,  found  they  had  not  for  the  moment  any 
thing  further  to  say,  "  I  have  answered  your  inquiry  re- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  251 

"Specting  Doctor  Ransom ;  may  I  have  the  liberty  of  put 
ting  a  question  to  you,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Anderson. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Highfly, 
"  We  will  answer  you,  sir,  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure." 

"  Then,  gentlemen,  I  must  say  I  cannot  comprehend  how 
it  has  happened  that  you  should  have  been  induced  to 
place  a  call  in  the  hands  of  my  brother  Ransom  ?  You 
say  he  was  invited  to  preach  for  you,  but  under  the  cir 
cumstances  declined,  which  I  think  was  a  fair  hint  that  he 
did  not  wish  to  be  'considered  a  candidate  for  your  favor. 
And  you,  likewise,  have  acknowledged  that  you  had  no 
reason  to  believe  there  was  any  dissatisfaction,  on  his  part 
with  his  people,  nor  on  the  part  of  the  people  with  him. 
Here  was  a,  pastor  and  people  satisfied  with  each  other, 
and  if  you  had  inquired,  you  would  have  ascertained  that 
the  relation  was  one  that  could  not  be  broken  without  in 
flicting  a  severe  trial  upon  a  respectable  Christian  society. 
Now,  upon  what  grounds  as  Christians  and  gentlemen, 
have  you  under  all  these  circumstances,  made  this  call  ?  " 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  no  reply ;  at  length  Mr. 
Highfly  responded.  He  had  some  preliminary  "  hems  " 
to  go  through  with  by  way  of  clearing  obstructions,  and  he 
had  two  or  three  pinches  of  snuff  to  dispose  of,  besides 
keeping  one  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  in  readi 
ness  for  an  emergency. 

"  Tour  question,  my  dear  sir,  I  must  say,  is  rather  hard 
to  answer  satisfactorily,  that  is,  considering  the  way  you 
have  stated  the  case;  you  have  placed  us  on  trial  as 
Christians  and  gentlemen.  Really,  my  dear  sir,'  you  see 
Mr.  Anderson  and  myself  are  merely  acting  for  others  — 
mere  agents." 

"  Oh,  sir,  you  must  not  misunderstand  me.  I  had  no 
design  to  bring  any  charge  against  you  two  gentlemen, 
for  the  mere  fact  of  your  having  acted  for  the  society  you 
represent;  but  you  must,  of  course,  know  the  reasons 
which  influenced  your  people  to  make  an  offer  to  a  settled 
pastor,  who  in  no  way  gave  you  cause  to  suppose  he  was 
ready  for  any  such  proposal." 

"  What  reason,  my  good  sir,  would  we  need,  besides 
the  fact  that  we  wanted  a  pastor,  and  believed  the  rever- 


252  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

end  gentleman  in  question  was  such  an  one  as  would  suit 
us." 

"  You  don't  understand,  Highfly,"  interrupted  his  com 
panion  ;  "the  reason,you  give  is  merely  the  bare,  naked  fact. 
We  wanted  a  minister,  and  we  thought  after  looking  round, 
that  the  one  we  have  selected,  would  suit  us ;  but  back  of 
this  stands  the  question,  '  is  it  honorable  to  take  leading 
measures  in  breaking  up  a  relation  —  a  happy  one,  be 
tween  pastor  and  people  —  is  it  doing  to  others  as  we 
would  wish  them  to  do  to  us  ? ' " 

"Oh,  but  my  good  sir,  that  is  no  principle  to  be  guided 
by  in  such  matters.  We  might  very  justly  on  the  same 
principle  say  to  this  people  here,  if  they  should  make  ob 
jections  to  our  taking  their  minister, '  you  are  selfish ; 
you,  a  small  people  in  a  small  church,  and  exerting  an  in- 
•  fluence  over  a  narrow  sphere,  want  to  detain  a  man  in  your 
cramped  condition,  in  an  out  of  the  way  place,  when  we 
are  ready  to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  exert  a  large  in 
fluence.'  Do  you  not  see  ?  " 

"But,  Mr.  Highfly,"  said  Mr.  Janeway,  "that  is  not  the 
question  which  I  wished  to  have  answered.  In  order  to 
make  myself  understood,  I  will  state  a  case  in  point.  You 
are  without  a  clerk ;  you  want  one.  You  want  a  young 
man  of  honest  principles,  and  industrious,  and  intelligent. 
Your  friend  Anderson,  has  a  young  man  whom  he  esteems 
highly,  and  with  whom  he  is  perfectly  satisfied ;  you  know 
this,  and  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  young  man  is 
perfectly  satisfied  too,  and  has  no  thought  of  leaving  his 
employer ;  but  you  want  him  because  you  believe  he  has 
the  qualifications  you  require.  You  say  nothing  to  Mr. 
Anderson,  but  on  meeting  this  young  man  in  the  street, 
you  take  him  by  the  button,  '  now,  here  'my  good  fellow, 
I  want  to  say  a  word  to  you.  How  much  does  Anderson 
give  you  ? ' ' 

" '  Seven  hundred  dollars  a  year.' " 

"  *  I  want  a  young  man,  and  I  think  you  are  the  one  I 
want.  Come  into  my  employ,  and  I  will  give  you  twelve 
hundred.' " 

"  Now  what  would  friend  Anderson  think  of  such  man 
agement  ?  " 

Anderson  looked  at  Highfly,  and  Highfly  at  him —  one 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  253 

with  a  quizzical  smile  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  the 
other  with  a  serious  scowl  upon  his  brow,  and  taking  snuft 
rapidly.  Mr.  Janeway  saw  the  dilemma  in  which  he  had 
placed  them,  especially  the  sanguine  Mr.  Highfly.  He 
was  conscious  of  having  stated  a  strong  case,  and  might 
have  gone  on  with  some  comments  that  would  have  shown 
how  it  met  the  point  at  issue,  but  he  felt  willing  to  let  the 
matter  rest,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and  leave  the  con 
clusions  to  their  own  consideration.  And  Mr.  Highfly 
very  soon  made  manifest  by  what  method  of  reasoning  he 
at  least  was  able  to  get  round,  or  own  the  case  so  pointed 
ly  put. 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  confess  in  the  matter  of  hiring  a  clerk 
in  the  way  you  have  stated  it,  friend  Anderson  would 
have  just  cause  of  complaint ;  but  that  would  be  a  sub 
ject  which  merely  concerned  two  individuals.  In  choos 
ing  a  minister,  a  large  number  of  persons  are  interested, 
.and  the  question  is  not  whether  some  are  pleased,  and 
others  displeased,  but  we  ai-e  to  look  at  the  results.  In 
the  church,  the  question  to  be  answered  is  this ;  '  what 
will  accomplish  the  greatest  amount  of  good  to  the  larg 
est  number  of  persons  ?  '  Individual  feelings  must  be 
overlooked.  In  looking  round  over  the  church  '  and  the 
world,  to  see  how  we  can  best  accomplish  good,  we  can 
not  stop  to  consider  what  this  man  will  say,  or  that  man 
will  say.  How  this  plan  may  affect  the  feelings  or  the  in 
terest  of  certain  persons,  or  societies,  or  that  plan  may 
excite  the  prejudices  of  a  certain  class,  and  raise  in  their 
minds  bitterness  and  hostility.  The  church  is  militant,  and 
in  a  state  of  war,  you  know.  The  question  is,  not  who 
or  how  many  may  be  injured,  but  how  the  victory  shall  be 
obtained !  Dwellings  must  be  burned,  fields  must  be 
trampled  over,  forests  must  be  cut  down  and  the  most 
beautiful  grounds  ravaged  and  dug  up  into  fortifications. 
It  may  be  very  hard  upon  individual  families,  and  even 
upon  whole  villages,  but  the  army  nor  the  general  can 
stop  to  think  of  that.  Their  duty  is  to  conquer  the  ene 
my  by  all  the  means  in  their  power." 

As  Mi\  Janeway  had  studied  the  philosophy  of  Chris 
tianity  in  a  different  school  from  that  of  Mr.  Highfly,  he 
concluded  they  would  not  be  likely  to  come  any  nearer  in 


254  LOOKING   AEOTTND. 

their  views  by  continuing  the  argument,  he  preferred  to 
drop  it,  and  leave  what  he  had  said  to  be  considered  by 
them  at  their  leisure.  Mr.  Anderson,  however,  seemed 
rather  anxious  that  his  friend  Janeway  should  not  be  left 
to  conclude  that  he  endorsed  in  full  the  views  of  his  fel 
low  committee  man.  So,  rising  from  his  chair  as  he  inti 
mated,  "  that  it  was  time  for  them  to  be  on  their  way," 
he  slapped  Mr.'Highfly  on  the  shoulder. 

"I  tell  you  what,  my  good  fellow,  I  believe  the  less  we 
say  about  this  matter,  the  better.  All  we  can  really  say 
on  the  subject  is  this ;  we  have  done  as  other  folks  do  — 
right  or  wrong,  we  can't  help  it  now.  Next  time  we 
must  do  better  if  we  can.  There  are  a  good  many  things 
in  the  church  as  well  as  in  the  world,  that  want  mending; 
and  perhaps  if  the  former  was  more  careful  of  its  doings, 
the  latter  might  be  more  influenced  by  it.  And  now,  friend 
Janeway,"  —  taking  the  hand  of  that  gentleman  —  "I 
shall  hope  to  see  more  of  you  in  New  York.  When  your 
friend,  the  Doctor,  gets  snugly  settled  there,  you  will,  no 
doubt,  have  an  additional  attraction  to  the  city." 

"  I  certainly  shall." 

After  the  gentlemen  had  departed,  Mr.  Janeway  hesi 
tated  as  to  the  propriety  of  his  making  the  intended  call. 
If  the  Doctor  had  so  lately  received  the  invitation  to  the 
city,  he  might  wish  to  be  undisturbed  by  visitors,  as  of 
course  the  subject  would  demand  most  serious  thought. 
If  he  needed  advice  no  doubt  he  would  ask  it.  Upon  re 
flection  he  concluded  to  defer  his  visit. 

It  does  not  need,  in  a  country  town  or  village,  no  matter 
how  scattered  may  be  the  dwellings,  that  there  should  be  a 
bulletin  office,  where  the  latest  news  is  posted.  Tidings 
fly  with  wonderful  rapidity,  and  the  very  day  on  which 
the  call  had  been  presented,  before  evening  it  was  known 
very  generally  that  the  Rev.  Doctor  Ransom  had  receiv 
ed  an  invitation  from  a  highly  respectable  congregation  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  one  of  the  wealthiest  in  the  city, 
at  the  highest  salary,  too,  that  was  then  paid  by  their  de 
nomination.  There  had,  indeed,  been  a  rumor  to  that  ef 
fect  for  some  time  floating  about ;  it  had  originated,  no 
doubt,  from  what  had  leaked  from  those  who  had  been 
sent  on  to  criticise  the  Sabbath  services  of  the  reverend 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  255 

gentleman.  They  had  spent  the  Sabbath  at  the  tavern,  a 
very  quiet  and  respectable  pla<5e  of  entertainment ;  they 
designed,  no  doubt,  to  keep  their  business  secret,  but  the 
last  committee  was  not  so  careful.  Being  perfectly  satis 
fied  that  he  was  the  man  for  them,  they  no  doubt  made 
up  their  minds  that  a  call  would  be  given,  and  did  not 
feel  the  necessity  for  keeping  the  matter  so  private.  The 
gentlemen  who  had  come  on  likewise*to  tender  the  invi 
tation,  staid  at  the  same  place,  and  had  conversed  >freely 
on  the  subject  with  the  tavern  keeper,  a  person  of  respec 
tability,  and  a  great  frfend  of  Doctor  Ransom ;  and  from 
him  the  news  was  sent  forth.  From  Doctor  Ransom  him 
self,  not  a  word  had  been  heard,  and  to  no  one  but  his 
wife  did  he  communicate  the  intelligence. 

As  Mr.  Bellows  was  known  to  be  on  very  intimate 
terms  with  their  minister,  and  one  most  likely  to  be  in 
formed  of  the  fact,  if  it  was  a  fact ;  there  was  that  eve 
ning  at  his  house  quite  a  gathering,  not  only  of  the  mem 
bers  of  the  session,  but  many  others  who  felt  concerned 
to  know  whether  the  current  report  was  founded  on  cer 
tainty. 

Mr.  Bellows  was  indeed  the  most  likely  person  to  know 
the  truth,  for  he  was  more  than  others,  a  confidant  of  the 
Doctor.  He  was  not  a  man  of  superior  education;  he 
could  not  well  converse  on  philosophy  or  science,  or  gen 
eral  literature,  but  he  was  a  keen  observer  of  human  na 
ture,  well  informed  about  current  events,  and  of  reliable 
judgment.  His  piety  was  ardent  and  steady.  It  did 
not  seem  to  be  an  attachment,  but  an  inherent  quality 
of  the  man,  not  obtrusive  in  demonstration.  There  was 
no  sudden  flashing  of  light  that  might  blind  and  bewilder 
and  astonish,  but  a  clear,  steady  emanation,  pleasant  to  be 
hold  even  by  those  who  did  not  care  to  come  within  its 
influence.  One  always  knew  where  to  find  Mr.  Bellows. 
His  zeal  for  the  cause  of  Christ  seemed  never  to  have  its 
cold  spells.  He  never  complained  of  coldnesa  —  not  to 
his  fellow  man.  He  knew  where  warmth  and  Jight  and 
spiritual  energy  were  to  be  obtained,  and  he  went  to  the 
fountain  head  ;  and  his  minister  knew  all  this,  and  had  a 
just  appreciation  of  his  character.  And  he  also  valued 
this  member  of  his  session  for  his  ability  in  conducting 


256  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

religious  exercises.  He  knew  when  he  called  on  brother 
Bellows  to  pray,  there  would  be  real  prayer  offered  —  not 
the  mere  performance  of  a  task  —  a  set  of  common 
phrases  and  unmeaning  repetitions.  There  would  be  a 
point  to  it ;  there  would  be  real  petitions  presented  in  ap 
propriate  language,  adapted  to  the  necessities  of  the  case, 
and  regulated  by  the  Saviour's  instruction  in  reference  to 
prayer.  He  was  a  peacemaker  too,  hushing  up  the  strife 
of  words ;  no  ill-favored  report  could  ever  be  traced  to 
brother  Bellows,  nor  could  it  get  through  him.  And  his 
minister  could  trust  in  his  discretion,  and  open  his  mind 
on  any  subject  that  concerned  others  without  the  fear  that 
it  would  be  repeated.  It  is  not  strange  then,  that  he 
should  have  the  confidence  of  the  church,  as  well  as  that 
of  his  pastor,  and  that  on  such  an  occasion  as  the  present, 
his  house  should  be  the  gathering  place  for  those  who 
were  deeply  concerned  about  the  truth  or  falsehood  of 
this  rumor. 

"  Well,  friend  Bellows,"  said  Mr.  Graham,  "  what  do 
you  think  about  this  report  ?  Is  it  true,  and  will  the  Doc 
tor  leave  us?" 

"  You  must  ask  Betsey ;  she  seems  to  know  all  about 
it,  she  has  been  crying  all  the  afternoon."  Mr.  Graham 
had  come  in  the  first  of  any,  and  Mi's.  Bellows  was  just 
then  talking  with  her  husband,  and  trying  to  persuade  him 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  go  at  once  to  Doctor  Ransom,  and 
tell  him  that  he  must  not  leave  them. 

"  Then  she  and  Mattie  feel  pretty  much  alike.  Matti'e 
sent  for  me  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  while  I  was  in 
the  field  with  the  men,  and  when  I  came  in  the  first  thing 
she  did,  was  to  burst  out  crying.  I  was  frightened  out 
of  my  wits  ;  I  did  not  know  but  something  dreadful  had 
happened." 

"  And  don't  you  call  it  dreadful ! "  said  Mrs.  Bellows. 
"  I  do  believe  you  men  don't  care  whether  he  goes  or 
not." 

"  You  hear  her  now,  Graham !  " 

"  Well,  Bellows,  it  is  a  bad  business,  anyhow.  After 
Mattie  told  me  the  news,  my  heart  sank  all  down ;  I  had 
no  spirit  to  go  to  work  or  do  anything.  I  do  think  it  a 
most  unrighteous  thing  for  any  set  of  men,  because  they 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  257 

have  plenty  of  money,  to  come  and  make  ofiers  to  our 
minister  right  over  our  heads,  and  never  even  say  '  by  your 
leave.' " 

"  It  is  a  common  practice,  you  know." 

"  Is  it  a  right  practice  ?     Is  it  Christian  ?  " 

Mr.  Bellows  did  not  answer  for  the  reason  that  two 
other  gentlemen  just  then  came  in,  and  Mrs.  Graham  with 
them  ;  they  had  met  at  the  street  door.  The  ladies,  how 
ever,  were  so  much  affected  by  the  sight  of  each  other, 
that  they  at  once  retired  to  another  room  to  mingle  their 
tears  and  pour  out  their  distress  in  sympathy  together. 

Mr.  Bellows  received  his  guests  with  his  usual  pleasant 
manner,  and  to  the  question  all  put  to  him  as  to  the  truth 
of  the  report,  his  reply  was  : 

"  You  all  know  as  much  about  it,  gentlemen,  as  I  do, 
although  I  must  say  this :  about  the  middle  of  this  af 
ternoon,  as  I  was  coming  from  my  east  lot,  I  met  young 
Roland." 

«  What,  Donald  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  stopped  me  and  asked  if  I  had  heard  the 
news  ?  " ' 

"What  news?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  that  Doctor  Ransom  had  received  a  call  to  the 
city  ?  " 

"  I  have  heard  such  a  report,"  I  replied,  "  but  know  not 
how  true  it  is." 

"  I  fear  it  is  true,"  he  replied. 

"  Did  Donald  Roland  say  that ! "  interposed  one  of  the 
guests ;  "  he  is  the  last  man  I  should  have  thought  cared 
whether  a  minister  went  or  came,  or  whether  there  were 
any  ministers  at  all." 

"  We  may  be  wrong  in  our  judgment  of  Donald,  broth 
er  Creighton.  He  has,  to  be  sure,  given  more  reason  than 
I  wish  he  had,  to  make  people  think  he  did  not  regard  re 
ligion  or  religious  institutions,  but  I  will  give  you  what 
he  said,  and  you  can  judge 'for  yourself. 

"  Said  he,  'I  fear  the  report  is  true.  I  have  just  seen 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Janeway,  and  he  has  told  me  that  the  gen 
tlemen  who  came  on  to  present  the  call,  were  at  his  house 
this  morning,  one  of  them  an  old  friend  of  his.  They  ac 
knowledged  having  presented  the  call,  and  seemed  very 


258  LOOKING   AROUND. 

sanguine  that  it  would  be  accepted.'  Donald  then  looked 
at  me  very  earnestly,  and  said, 

" '  Mr.  Bellows,  cannot  this  be  prevented  ?  Doctor  Ran 
som  will  be  a  loss  to  our  whole  place  ;  if  an  addition  to 
his  salary  is  wanted  I  will  subscribe  a  hundred  dollars  a 
year,  and  if  that  is  not  enough,  will  double  it.' " 

"Did  Donald  Roland  say  that?" 

"  He  certainly  did,  brother  Creighton.  I  never  saw  him 
so  earnest  about  any  thing  before." 

"Well,  well,  well,  that  is  something  I  should  never 
have  looked  for ;  but  what  you  say  makes  me  think  of 
another  thing.  I  was  coming  home  from  mill  a  short  time 
since,  and  I  met  the  Doctor  and  him  riding  together ; 
they  were  on  horseback,  and  I  noticed  that  they  were 
very  earnestly  engaged  in  conversation,  and  after  I  passed 
them,  I  happened  to  look  back  and  they  were  walking 
their  horses,  and  the  Doctor  put  out  his  hand  and  laid  it 
on  Donald's  shoulder  —  in  that  friendly  way  he  has,  you 
know,  when  talking  to  young  people  —  and  putting  what 
you  have  just  told  us,  brother  Bellows,  with  that,  it  may 
be  the  Doctor  has  put  a  word  into  his  heart  that  has 
touched  him.  What  a  mercy  it  would  be,  for  there  is  not 
naturally  a  better-disposed  person  in  our  town.  But  you 
know  it  has  been  generally  thought  he  did  not  care  any 
thing  about  religion  —  was  in  fact  skeptical." 

"  What  you  say  about  Donald  Roland,  Mr.  Bellows,  is 
strange,  I  know ;  but  not  more  so  than  what  I  heard  with 
my  own  ears  from  the  mouth  of  Ezekiel  Briar,  not  two 
hours  ago,"  said  another. 

"  Old  Zeke  Briar !  "  echoed  several  voices. 

"  Yes,  brethren,  and  it  made  me  think  of  Nathaniel's  re 
mark  to  Phillip,  '  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of  Naz 
areth  ! '  I  was  on  my  way  home  from  the  store,  and  as  I 
was  passing  along  a  potato  field  near  his  house,  I  saw 
Zeke  sitting  on  the  fence ;  and  when  I  bowed  to  him  he 
beckoned  me  to  stop,  and  so  I  stopped  my  horse,  and  up 
he  comes  to  me." 

" '  Squire,'  says  he,  '  what  have  you  been  doing  to  your 
minister,  to  make  him  want  to  leave  ? ' 

" '  I  don't  know  that  he  does  want  to  leave,'  said  I. 

"  '  Why,  Joe  Sanders,  the  tavern-keeper,  told  me  him- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  259 

pelf,  this  very  morning,  he  knew  it  for  certain,  a  call  to 
New  York  has  been  put  into  his  hands ;  and  I  think  it 
aint  likely  folks  would  take  the  trouble  to  come  all  the 
way  from  there  to  do  such  a  thing  as  that,  if  he  hadn't 
let  them  know  in  some  way  that  he  was  ready  for  it.' 

"  This,  you  see,  set  me  to  thinking.  It  put  the  whole 
case  in  a  new  light.  Thinks  I,  if  that  should  be  the  case, 
there  would  be  no  use  in  trying  to  head  them  off,  for  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  that  the  best  thing  for  us  to  do,  would 
be  to  raise  his  salary  right  off;  but  if  the  thing  had  gone 
so  far  as  that  the  Doctor  had  encouraged  them  that  he 
would  accept  a  call  if  they  gave  him  one,  he  wasn't  the 
man  that  would  be  very  likely  to  disappoint  folks.  '  Well,' 
I  said,  '  I  don't  know  but  he  may  leave  us ;  it  will  be  a 
sorry  day  for  us  all  if  he  does  go.' 

" '  But  you  must'nt  let  him  go,'  said  he. 

" '  How  can  we  help  it  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Help  it !  Why  you  must  all  go  to  him  and  tell  him 
he  ought'nt.  Tell  him  he  must'nt.  Tell  him  you'll  raise 
his  salary.' 

" '  Will  you  help  along,  Zeke  ? '  said  I. 

" '  Yes,  I  will.  I  know  I've  been  kind  of  off  ox,  and 
raaybe  folks  think  I  don't  care  much  how  things  go  ;  but 
I  do,  for  all  that.  Help !  yes,  I'll  help.  I'll  give  Twenty- 
five  dollars  a  year,  may  be  more.' 

" '  Will  you  promise  to  go  to  church,  Zeke  ? '  said  I. 

"'Go  to  church!  Well,  I  don't  know.  You  dont 
want  me  there.  You'd  all  think  I'd  come  to  make  a  muss, 
or  do  something  or  other.  But  I  tell  you  you]ll  miss  it,  if 
you  let  that  man  go.  He's  a  good  man  —  the  best  Chris 
tian  you've  got  in  the  place  —  that  ain't  saying  much, 
though.' 

"  '  Well,  Zeke,'  said  I,  '  if  you  will  promise  me  to  go  to 
church  and  attend  regular  as  other  folks,  I  think  some 
thing  may  be  done.  The  Doctor  will  think  more  of  sav 
ing  one  sinner  than  of  all  the  money  we  can  raise.  Now 
promise  me,  Zeke,'  said  I. 

"  '  Well,'  said  he,  '  if  you  can  get  him  to  stay,  I  will.' 
Now,  brother,  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 

"  I  think,  brother  Jones,  you  said  the  truth  when  you 
told  Zeke  that  Doctor  Ransom  would  think  more  of  sav- 


260  LOOKING   AROUND. 

ing  one  sinner  that  of  any  amount  of  money  we  could 
give  him  as  salary.  Both  of  these  cases  show  that  our 
minister  has  a  strong  hold  of  those  out  of  the  church,  as 
well  as  of  the  church  itself." 

"Brother  Bellows,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  a  member  of  the 
chui-ch,  but  a  man  who  was  supposed  to  be  a  little  too 
fond  of  money — at  least,  a  firm  believer  in  its  universal 
power  —  "  it  is  my  opinion,  that  the  best  thing  we  can 
do,  is  to  go  to  work  at  once  and  see  how  large  a  sum  of 
money  we  can  raise.  Ministers,  as  well  as  other  folks, 
have  to  look  out  for  number  one." 

"I  don't  believe,"  interposed  Mr.  Graham,  "such  a 
measure  as  that  will  do  any  good." 

"  Why  not  ?  "  replied  Mr.  Sampson. 

"Because  I  don't  think  it  will  affect  the  decision  of  the 
case  one  ioto." 

"  Don't  you  believe  that,  brother  Graham.  Where  do 
you  know  of  a  case  of  a  minister's  accepting  a  call  when 
the  salary  to  be  paid  was  less,  or  even  no  more,  than  that 
which  he  had  been  receiving?  I  know  that  they  put  it 
on  the  ground  of  being  more  useful  in  one  place  than 
another,  but  I  ask  you  now,  can  you  tell  me  of  an  instance 
where,  when  a  man  leaves  one  parish  for  another,  of  his 
own  accord,  he  does  not  get  a  larger  salary?" 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  very  generally  with  the  state  of 
things  in  that  respect,  nor  should  I  like  to  judge  of  minis 
ters'  motives.  They  must  answer  for  themselves.  No 
doubt  there  is  some  occasion  for  the  idea  your  question 
suggests ;  but  I  can  never  believe  that  any  such  motive 
can  have  influence  with  Doctor  Ransom." 

Just  then  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  en 
trance  of  a  gentleman  with  a  brisk,  stirring  air  about  him, 
a  robust,  hale  looking  man,  with  a  bronzed  complexion, 
dark  eyes,  heavy  eyebrows,  dark  hair  well  sprinkled  with 
grey.  He  was  almost  out  of  breath  when  he  came  in,  for 
he  had  walked  fast,  and  his  countenance  wore  a  troubled 
look.  All  rose  as  he  entered,  and  gave  him  a  cordial 
shake  of  the  hand,  with  a  "  How  do  you  do  ?  "  "  Glad  to 
see  yoa,  Mr.  Barnes."  Mr.  Barnes,  however,  did  not  speak, 
but  he  grasped  each  hand  offered  him  in  such  a  hearty 
manner,  that  all  felt  assured  his  heart  was  with  them.  No 


LOOKING   AROUND.  261 

man  had  a  stronger  hold  of  the  interest  of  every  one  in 
that  room  than  Mr.  Barnes,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that 
no  one  felt  so  deeply  concerned  in  the  subject  which  had 
been  under  consideration.  After  saluting  all  around,  and 
taking  his  seat,  he  remained  a  moment  in  silence,  when 
Mr.  Graham  addressed  him. 

"I  suppose,  brother  Barnes,  you  have  heard  the  news  !  " 

"  True  ?  is  it  true  ?  "  This  was  spoken  in  a  rapid  man 
ner.  He  had  a  very  quick  utterance  in  general,  often  in 
his  haste  clipping  his  words. 

"  Too  true,  we  believe." 

"  What's  to  be  done  ?  " 

"  That  is  a  serious  question,  rather  difficult  to  answer, 
at  least  for  me." 

"  I  think  it  is  for  all  of  us,"  said  Mr.  Creighton. 

"I  think,  Mr.  Barnes,"  said  Mr.  Sampson,  who,  know 
ing  that  Mr.  Barnes  had  been  once  an  ardent  lover  of 
money,  thought  no  doubt  that  he  had  strong  faith  in  its 
power,  and  would  side  with  him  in  his  opinion  — • "  that 
the  best  thing  we  can  do  is  to  raise  a  good  fat  sum  as  an 
addition  to  our  minister's  salary ;  that  will  keep  him  if 
any  thing." 

"Don't  believe  it." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Has  he  asked  for  money  ?  " 

"Not  that  I  know  of — but"  — 

"  Poh,  poh,  poh,  poh." 

"  You  don't  think,  then,  it  would  do  any  good." 

"  No  good  at  all,  none  at  all.  If  money  '11  keep  him 
I'd  share  with  him  —  give  him  half  my  income.  Money 
would'nt  do  me  any  good,  if,  if  if — "  Mr.  Barnes  no 
doubt  was  intending  to  say,  "  if  he  goes  away,"  but  he 
could  not  say  the  word.  When  greatly  excited,  he  would 
stop  at  a  word  and  stammer.  The  little  conjunction  had 
stopped  his  progi-ess,  and  his  manifestation  of  deep  feel 
ing  affected  all  present.  They  knew  his  heart  was  bound 
up  in  his  pastor,  and  well  it  might  be.  He  was,  at  the 
time  Doctor  Ransom  settled  at  Woodburn,  an  active, 
driving,  money-making,  worldly-minded  man.  Besides  a 
large  farm  which  he  cultivated  in  the  very  best  manner, 
he  had  a  store  which,  by  careful  management,  he  had 


262  LOOKING   AROITKD. 

made  very  profitable.  His  goods  were  the  best  of  their 
kind,  his  prices  moderate,  and  his  known  integrity  and 
polite  attention  to  customers  had  drawn  to  it  not  only  the 
principal  trade  in  "Woodburn,  but  that  of  many  who  lived 
on  the  outskirts  of  towns  adjacent.  But  he  was  an  ardent 
lover  of  money,  his  whole  soul  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in 
the  single  idea  of  gain.  Doctor  Ransom  had  always  done 
some  trading  with  him,  although  the  more  important  ar 
ticles  for  family  use  he  purchased  in  New  York  ;  and  Mr. 
Barnes  was  always  peculiarly  attentive  to  his  reverend 
customer,  not  only  as  he  respected  him  as  a  man  and  his 
minister,  but  also  for  the  reason  that  the  Doctor  was  a 
cash  customer.  Mr.  Barnes  had  been  seized  with  severe 
sickness ;  he  had  to  leave  the  care  of  his  farm  and  store 
to  others  —  to  lie  helpless  on  his  bed.  Friends  were 
alarmed,  physicians  were  doubtful  —  "  he  might  possibly 
recover,  but  the  symptoms  were  bad."  His  minister,  un 
der  such  circumstances,  could  not  stay  away  from  his  bed 
side,  although  no  particular  request  had  been  made  for 
his  presence ;  but  he  knew  how  unprepared  the  sick  man 
was.  He  knew  it  from  having  held  at  times  long  conver 
sations  with  him  on  his  religious  views.  Mr.  Barnes 
seemed  glad  to  see  him,  and  listened  with  apparent  inter 
est  to  the  solemn  address  of  his  minister,  heard  the  ti 
dings  through  him  of  his  own  dangerous  condition,  and 
that  the  scales  were  on  a  poise  'between  life  and  death  — 
at  length  he  spoke. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Doctor.  I  know  it,  I  know  it,  the  world 
seems  to  grow  worse  and  worse.  People  wont  pay,  wont 
pay  their  debts.  Can't  collect  any  money  —  harder  get 
ting  it  than  ever." 

Doctor  Ransom  ceased  speaking.  He  saw  clearly  that 
the  poor  man  was  wedded  to  his  idol.  The  prospect  of 
sudden  dissolution  could  not  break  the  charm.  His  time 
had  not  come  to  die,  however.  Again  he  is  around  as  ac 
tive  as  ever,  apparently  with  the  same  eager  pursuit  of 
wealth  ;  his  seat  in  the  house  of  God  filled  as  always  be 
fore,  and  the  truths  of  the  Bible  so  earnestly  and  forcibly 
delivered,  falling  upon  his  ear  with  no  more  effect  than  a 
shower  of  rain  upon  the  flinty  rock. 

There  came  a  time,  at  length,  when  a  word  spoken  by 


LOOKING    AROUND. 

his  pastor  in  apparently  an  incidental  way,  at  a  casual  in 
terview,  arrested  his  attention.  He  tried  to  throw  it  off 
but  it  would  not  go ;  he  became  restless,  and  for  trifling 
causes  allowed  his  temper  to  be  excited,  forgot  details  of 
his  business,  often  in  his  house  sat  silent  and  by  himself, 
and  then  at  times  would  walk  the  room  brooding  over  some 
apparently  forbidding  subject,  but  not  disposed  to  allow 
either  his  wife  or  children  to  share  his  confidence. 

Doctor  Ransom  had  called  at  his  store  and  made  a  small 
purchase,  and  Mr.  Barnes,  as  was  his  custom,  had  waited 
upon  the  reverend  gentleman.  After  receiving  his  pay, 
and  as  the  Doctor  bade  him  good  morning  and  was  about 
to  depart,  Mr.  Barnes  stepped  from  behind  his  counter 
and  followed  him  to  the  door. 

"Doctor,  are  you  in  a  hurry?" 

"  Not  particularly  so,  Mr.  Barnes." 

"  Can  you  step  into  the  house,  a  minute  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  sir."  T\he  house  and  store  were  close  to 
gether. 

So,  entering  the  street  door  of  the  house,  he  was  led  by 
his  host  into  a  parlor.  It  was  the  best  parlor,  and  where 
no  one  of  the  family  would  be  very  likely  to  intrude.  As 
soon  as  his  minister  was  seated,  Mr.  Barnes  began. 

"  Doctor,  there's  something  out  of  the  way  —  some 
thing  the  matter  with  me." 

"  Ah,  sir !     What  is  it,  Mr.  Barnes  ?  —  not  well  ?  " 

"  Well  enough,  yes.  I'm  well  enough  —  but  I  can't 
sleep." 

"  Your  nervous  system,  perhaps,  my  dear  sir,  has  not 
recovered  from  the  shock  of  your  last  sickness." 

"  No,  no,  no.  My  nerves  are  well  enough  —  strong  as 
ever.  It  ain't  that,  but  there's  a  kind  of  heavy  weight 
hanging  to  me,  and  I've  tried  and  tried  and  tried,  but  I 
can't  get  rid  of  it  —  it  feels  as  heavy  as  a  peddler's  pack, 
only  it's  on  my  mind." 

"  Any  thing  about  your  business,  that  troubles  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no.  It  ain't  that,  business  goes  on  well 
enough." 

"  So  far  as  you  can  describe  the  difficulty,  Mr.  Barnes, 
or  feel  free  to  unfold  it  to  me,  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  it. 
It  seems  to  be  some  burden  on  your  mind  that  is  discon- 


264  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

nected  with  worldly  interests.  Has  it  any  thing  to  do 
with  the  great  subject  you  and  I  have  dwelt  upon  at 
times?" 

"  I'm  afraid  it  has." 

"  To  me,  sir,  should  it  turn  out  that  a  concern  for  your 
eternal  interests  has  been  started  in  your  mind,  it  would 
be  cause  rather  for  rejoicing.  My  fear  for  you  has  been 
that,  in  your  eagerness  to  gain  as  much  as  possible  of  this 
world,  you  would  become  callous  to  all  that  concerns  your 
spiritual  good." 

"  What  shall  I  do,  Doctor  ?  I  am  a  very  wretched 
man.  I  am  a  very  guilty,  wicked  person.  I  have  never 
done  a  good  thing  all  my  life.  Did  you  ever  know  such 
a  case  ?  " 

"  You  have  the  name,  Mr.  Barnes,  of  having  been  a 
truly  honest  man  in  all  your  dealings  with  your  fellows. 
You  have  been  a  good  member  of  society.  I  have  never 
heard  a  complaint  against  you  in  that  respect.  I  have 
feared,  however,  that  you  did  not  love  your  Saviour  as 
much  as  you  have  loved  your  money." 

"  Oh,  sir !  my  dear  Doctor,  there  you've  hit  it.  Money 
has  been  my  God.  Day  and  night,  month  after  month, 
year  after  year,  I  have  worshipped  it  —  given  my  whole 
heart  to  it  —  Sundays  and  all  days,  there  my  heart  has 
been.  Ain't  it  a  wonder  I  haven't  been  struck  dead, 
long  before  now  ?  Only  to  think  of  it !  Here  I  am,  six 
ty  years  of  age,  my  hair  gray,  my  forehead  wrinkled  with 
care  and  labor,  and  striving  to  get  this  world.  God's  sun 
shining  around  me,  His  rain  watering  my  fields,  His  hand 
guarding  me  by  day  and  night,  and  my  heart  all  the  time 
a-saying,  *  I  desire  not  to  know  Thee  —  go  away,  go  away 
—  I  want  not  the  knowledge  of  thy  ways.'  Oh,  sir,  it  is 
a  dreadful  case ;  and  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  worse  it 
seems." 

"  It  is  sad  to  think  that  our  life  has  been  wasted  in  a 
chase  after  that  which,  after  all,  is  a  deceitful  meteor ;  but 
God,  in  his  great  compassion,  has  prepared  a  way  and  un 
folded  the  means  by  which  our  folly  and  error  may  be 
amended.  Penitence  for  the  past  and  a  new  life  for  the 
future." 

"  Doctor,  I've  been  thinking  I'd  give  away  all  my  prop 
erty." 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  265 

"  For  what  purpose,  Mr.  Barnes  ?  " 

"  May  be  I  should  feel  easier." 

"  Had  you  gained  it  unjustly,  I  should  urge  you  to  do 
so,  for  it  would  ever  be  as  a  mill  stone  about  your  neck  ; 
but  you  have  labored  diligently  to  acquire  it,  and  have 
practiced  no  dishonesty  that  I  ever  heard.  God  alone  has 
been  defrauded.  He  does  not  ask  for  your  property,  but 
your  heart ;  until  you  can  give  that  up  to  Him,  nothing 
else  you  possess  will  be  accepted  at  your  hands.  You 
have  loved  the  world  with  all  your  heart,  and  you  know 
from  your  own  experience  what  that  implies.  '  Day  and 
night,'  you  have  said,  t  for  months  and  years',  the  world 
has  engrossed  your  desires.  In  just  such  measure  hereaf 
ter  must  you  be  engrossed  with  the  love  and  service  of 
God.  Your  property,  which  God  has  given  you,  must  no 
longer  be  accounted  as  your  own,  you  must  hold  it  as 
God's  agent.  It  is  not  to  be  squandered  by  extravagance, 
nor  for  the  gratification  of  mere  worldly  appetite  and 
taste,  nor  thrown  heedlessly  into  the  hands  of  others  to 
use  for  benevolent  objects.  You  are  responsible  for  it, 
and  must  one  day,  as  a  recipient  of  God's  bounty,  give  an 
account  of  it.  Now,  my  dear  sir,  do  you  understand  me." 

«  Think  I  do." 

"  You  have  hitherto,  my  friend,  lived  for  the  world." 

"  Yes,  yes  —  that  I  have." 

"  Are  you  ready  to  say  now,  that  henceforth  you  will 
live  for  your  Saviour, —  give  him  your  heart  and  ser 
vice?" 

A  moment  there  was  no  response.  The  large  shaggy 
brows  were  drawn  together,  the  broad  forehead  knit  with 
wrinkles,  the  heavy  mouth  closely  shut,  and  the  dark  eyes 
twinkling  rapidly.  A  mighty  struggle  which  had  been 
going  on  for  weeks,  reached  its  climax.  He  had  a  cleai' 
mind, —  he  had  comprehended  all  his  minister  had  said, 
the  truth  blazed  before  him,  he  knew  it  was  the  way,  the 
only  way. 

"  Til  try  to." 

The  Doctor  arose  and  took  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  friend,  may  God  help  you,"  and  then  was 
about  to  depart,  but  Mr.  Barnes  still  held  his  hand. 

"  You  will  pray  for  me." 
12 


266  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  That  I  have  done  daily  for  many  years.  Now  I  will 
not  only  pray  for  you,  but  give  thanks  to  God  for  the  won 
ders  of  his  grace." 

"Wonderful!  Wonderful!  I  don't  know  myself; 
something  seems  to  have  happened  to  me.  I  seem  in  a 
strange  world,  all  looks  new." 

"  And  somewhat  brighter,  does  it  not  ?  " 
«  Yes,  yes,  brighter !     Oh,  sir,  I  feel  as  if  I  could  cry 
aloud  for  joy." 

The  Doctor  paused.  He  was  taken  by  surprise.  He 
knew  well  that  when  Mr.  Barnes  said,  'I'll  try  to,'  a  great 
end  had  been  accomplished.  He  was  not  a  man  to  say 
things  rashly.  He  was  not  a  man  easily  turned  from  his 
purpose.  lie  would  try  —  and  having  a  strong  faith  that 
a  good  work  was  begun,  he  believed  it  would  be  carried 
through ;  but  he  anticipated  a  longer  struggle,  and  not 
that  light  and  peace  should  have  come  so  soon. 

"  Are  you  ready  to  bow  down  with  me  now,  my  dear 
sir,  and  unite  with  me  in  giving  thanks  to  God  for  his  re 
deeming  mercy  ?  " 
"  Glad,  glad  to  do  it." 

And  brighter  and  brighter  from  that  hour,  was  the  path 
of  this  renewed  man,  and  the  light  of  his  new  life  shone 
clearly  through  all  the  parish,  a  wonder  to  all,  and  the 
cause  of  renewed  strength  to  many  a  weak  Christian.  No 
wonder  then,  if  the  prospect  of  losing  one  on  whom  he 
had  leaned  for  instruction  as  a  child  upon  a  father,  and  to 
whom  his  heai't  was  knit  by  the  most  endearing  tie,  should 
have  stirred  its  depths.  The  evident  emotion  manifested 
by  Mr.  Barnes  had  effectually  silenced  the  company ;  the 
shadow  of  a  deep  grief  had  fallen  upon  them.  Mr.  Bel 
lows  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Brethren,  I  believe  we  all  feel  alike  in  reference  to 
the  trial  in  prospect,  although  we  may  differ  as  to  our 
views  of  a  remedy.  My  own  belief  is  that  no  amount  of 
money  we  could  raise  as  salary  would  be  of  any  avail,  for 
if  that  object  should  have  influence,  we  should  be  beaten 
in  the  competition.  I  am  credibly  informed  that  the  con 
gregation  that  has  given  him  the  call,  authorized  the  com 
mittee  to  assure  the  Doctor  that  they  were  prepared  to  do 
much  more  than  pay  the  salary  named  —  that  a  very 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  267 

handsome  purse  would  be  made  up  for  him  at  the  start, 
and  that  he  might  rely  upon  large  presents  every  year.  No, 
brethren,  we  must  wait  patiently  and  leave  the  matter  to 
the  Doctor's  own  sense  of  duty.  He  will  be  influenced 
by  that  and  nothing  else ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  if  he  were 
here  with  us  to-night,  he  would  ask  for  our  earnest  pray 
ers  that  he  might  see  clearly  what  that  was.  I  therefore 
propose  that  we  spend  our  time,  while  here  together,  in 
that  way,  and  if  brother  Barnes  will  lead  us  "  — 

"  Can't,  can't  do  it."  In  general  he  never  refused  when 
called  upon,  but  all  present  well  understood  the  cause  for 
declining,  and  Mr.  Bellows  himself  commenced  the  exer 
cise.  There  was  no  formality  in  the  petitions  offered  that 
evening,  every  individual  felt  that  personal  as  well  as  pub 
lic  interests  of  the  most  important  character  were  at  stake. 

The  Sabbath  came,  and  there  was  a  large  attendance. 
Whether  the  subject  of  the  discourses  was  one  of  deep 
er  interest  than  usual,  or  the  people  more  easily  excited, 
there  was  certainly  an  unusual  solemnity  and  manifesta 
tion  of  deep  feeling.  Many  seemed  to  have  made  up 
their  minds  that  they  were  to  lose  their  pastor,  and  were 
listening  to  him,  as  perhaps  for  the  last  time,  under  that 
endearing  relation  in  which  they  had  been  so  long  bound 
together.  And  when  the  morning  service  closed  there" 
was  no  saluting  of  one  another  as  is  common  in  the  coun 
try,  as  they  emerged  from  the  sanctuary.  Each  heart  seem 
ed  to  bear  a  silent  sorrow,  and  in  little  groups  they  walk 
ed  towards  their  homes,  not  caring  to  speak  of  that  which 
lay  most  burdensome  upon  them,  and  no  desire  to  talk 
of  aught  besides ;  they  seemed  like  mourners  returning 
from  the  newly  covered  grave. 

At  the  close  of  the  afternoon  service,  and  while  all 
were  standing  in  readiness  to  receive  the  benediction, 
the  Doctor  made  a  request  that  the  members  of  his  Ses 
sion  should  meet  him  at  the  lecture  room  to-morrow 
(Monday)  evening. 

There  was  a  sudden  movement  as  though  a  rush  of 
wind  had  swayed  the  long  branches  of  the  weeping  elms 
that  hung  before  the  windows,  and  the  faces  of  women 
and  men  turned  involuntarily  one  towards  another,  some 
with  a  silent  nod,  some  with  deep  meaning  flashing  from 


268  LOOKING   AROUND. 

the  eye  and  not  a  few  of  the  women,  those  lovers  of  the 
Saviour  and  of  all  his  ministers,  that  most  resemble  the 
dear  master,  with  the  tear  already  started.  It  was  an  ap 
pointment,  all  knew,  for  a  special  object,  as  it  was  not  the 
regular  time  for  their  meeting  —  it  must  of  course  have  ref 
erence  to  their  new  situation,  and  no  doubt  was  designed 
as  the  first  act  in  the  drama. 

The  Doctor  did  not  in  general  leave  his  pulpit  until  the 
congregation  had  nearly  all  left  the  house,  and  this  day 
he  lingered  there  longer  than  usual ;  he  evidently,  for 
some  cause,  did  not  wish  to  be  subjected  to  inquiries  or 
to  make  communications.  A  few,  however,  of  the  people 
remained  within  the  vestibule  until  he  came  out.  Among 
them  was  Mrs.  Graham.  She  could  not  go  to  her  home 
until  she  had  passed  a  word  with  her  dear  pastor.  Mrs. 
Graham  was  quite  young  when  the  Doctor  was  settled. 
Although  married,  she  was  but  eighteen  years  of  age. 
She  had  therefore  placed  herself  among  the  young  peo 
ple,  and  had  joined  one  of  the  classes  which  the  Doctor 
had  taken  much  pains  to  instruct  in  Biblical  literature. 
She  had  been  one  of  his  best  scholars,  and  having  a  warm 
heart,  as  well  as  a  bright  mind,  had  become  devotedly  at 
tached  ~  to  her  minister  and  teacher;  and  perhaps  there 
was  no  one  among  his  people  who  had  taken  a  stronger 
hold  upon  his  own  heart.  As  he  entered  the  vestibule 
she  came  up  to  him,  and  as  he  took  her  hand,  she  looked 
up  into  his  face,  her  bright  eye  suffused  with  the  tears  she 
had  no  power  to  control. 

"  You  will^  not  leave  us ! "  The  voice  was  low,  scarce 
above  a  whisper,  but  the  evident  emotion  that  almost 
choked  her  utterance  deeply  affected  the  strong  man,  and 
for  a  little  space  he  hesitated  to  reply;  then  cordially 
pressing  her  hand — 

"  My  dear  child,  we  must  learn  to  lean  on  a  surer  sup 
port  than  an  arm  of  flestu  We  can  do  without  one  another, 
but  we  cannot  do  without  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Unable  to  restrain  her  feelings  she  at  once  gave  vent 
to  a  passionate  burst  of  tears ;  two  or  three  other  ladies 
who  were  present,  but  did  not  hear  what  was  said,  taking 
for  granted  that  Mrs.  Graham's  fears  had  been  verified, 
gathered  about  her  and  mingled  their  tears  with  hers; 


LOOKING   AROUND.  269 

the  pastor,  much  moved,  and  unwilling  to  trust  himself  to 
say  more,  stepped  from  the  vestibule  and  left  the  church. 

The  session  room,  as  it  was  called,  was  a  small  build 
ing  attached  to  the  church,  which  had  been  erected  at  the 
suggestion  of  the  Doctor,  in  which  meetings  might  be  held 
occasionally,  and  which  might  be  warmed  and  lighted 
more  readily  than  the  larger  building.  It  had  folding  doors 
by  which  it  could  be  divided  into  a  larger  and  smaller 
room,  or  both  thrown  into  one  as  occasion  might  require  ; 
the  latter  was  generally  used  when  the  elders  and  deacons, 
with  the  pastor,  assembled. 

Nothing  had  been  learned  by  any  of  the  officers  as  to 
the  prospect  before  them,  but  from  incidental  circum 
stances,  known  to  a  few,  it  was  feared  their  pastor  had 
concluded  to  leave.  They  came  together,  therefore,  in  no 
very  cheerful  mood.  The  hour  of  seven  had  just  struck 
as  the  Doctor  entered,  and  after  a  kind  salutation  to  each 
individual,  he  took  the  chair  before  a  small  table — his  usual 
seat.  His  countenance  had  lost  its  hale  appearance,  it 
was  pale  and  his  eye  languid,  and  there  was  a  look  of  un 
easiness  as  though  a  heavy  burden  of  care  pressed  upon 
his  mind.  The  past  few  days  had  done  more  to  prostrate 
his  physical  powers  than  all  his  years  of  ministerial  labor ; 
and  each  of  his  session  felt  assured  that  a  mighty  conflict 
had  been  sustained  within  his  breast,  and  that  whatever 
conclusion  had  been  made,  had  been  arrived  at  through 
intense  thought  and  earnest  prayer,  and  would  not  be  ea 
sily  reversed. 

After  the  opening  prayer,  the  Doctor  resumed  his  seat, 
and  almost  immediately  addressed  them. 

"  It  is  probably  known  to  you,  brethren,  that  a  call  has 
been  presented  to  me  by  a  congregation  in  the  city  of 
New  York,  to  become  their  pastor.  And  it  is  but  justice 
to  myself  to  say,  that  it  has  been  done  without  the  least 
connivance  on  my  part,  nor  the  least  encouragement  that 
I  was  ready  to  listen  to  any  such  proposal.  I  therefore 
feel  more  solicitude  about  the  matter,  because  so  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  it  is  a  providential  act  entirely,  and  involves 
of  course,  great  consideration  on  my  part,  and  deep  study 
of  the  matter  in  all  its  bearings.  Should  I  consult  my 
personal  feelings  alone,  a  moment's  thought  would  be  suffi- 


270  LOOKING   AROUND. 

cient ;  but  as  I  view  my  calling  as  a  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ,  personal  preferences  must  be  laid  aside  and  the 
will  of  the  Master  implicitly  obeyed. 

It  is  customary  with  many  of  my  ministerial  brethren, 
when  situated  as  I  now  am,  to  lay  the  case  before  a  coun 
cil  or  Presbytery,  and  leave  the  decision  to  their  judgment ; 
but  I  do  not  intend  to  ask  counsel  of  any  besides  Him 
whose  servant  I  am,  and  seeking  by  earnest  prayer  for 
His  direction,  judge  for  myself  after  weighing  well  all  con 
siderations,  what  my  line  of  duty  may  be.  And  one  very 
important  item  upon  which  to  base  my  judgment,  must  be 
derived,  brethren,  from  the  information  I  may  receive  from 
you ;  and  I  appeal  now  to  your  knowledge  and  your  judg- 
menty  —  your  personal  feelings  towards  me  I  feel  assured 
are  of  the  most  friendly  nature.  We  are  mutual  friends,  as 
well  as  official  brethren.  But  I  ask  you  to  lay  all  natural 
feelings  aside.  To  do  our  duty  as  Christians  to  the  part  of 
Zion  to  which  we  belong,  and  to  the  church  at  large,  must 
be  our  chief  business.  Yon  are,  from  your  peculiar  situa 
tion,  familiar  with  the  state  of  feeling  among  the  people 
—  both  the  church  itself  and  those  who  are  merely  members 
of  the  congregation..  I  have  been  with  you  ten  years, 
my  manner  of  life  and  my  ministerial  character  must  in 
that  time  have  had  their  influence  for  good  or  evil.  J 
have  lived  and  preached  as  my  conscience  has  directed 
me,  and  my  course  for  the  future  will  not  be  materially 
changed.  I  wish  you  to  tell  me,  therefore,  with  all  plain 
ness,  and  to  the  very  best  of  your  knowledge,  how  the 
people  are  affected  towards  my  ministry.  I  charge  you 
to  keep  nothing  back  out  of  delicate  regard  to  my  feel 
ings  ;  let  me  know  the  truth  and  the  whole  truth,  as  God 
shall  be  your  judge." 

There  was  an  evident  lighting  up  of  the  countenance 
on  the  part  of  the  Session,  and  instinctively  all  turned  their 
eyes  towards  Mr.  Bellows,  as  the  one  to  rise  and  respond. 
He  did  not  wait  long. 

"  My  brethren,"  said  Mr.  Bellows,  "  seem  to  feel  that  I 
must  reply  to  the  request  of  our  pastor,  and  I  readily  do 
so ;  but  reverend  sir,  I  shall  only  answer  so  far  as  my  own 
knowledge  of  the  feelings  of  our  people  gives  me  author 
ity  to  speak,  and  I  wish  my  brethren  clearly  to  understand 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  271 

that  I  do  not  answer  for  them,  nor  will  I  take  such  a 
responsibility.  I  speak  not  for  them,  but  for  myself. 

*'  So  far  as  the  feelings  of  the  members  of  the  church  are 
concerned,  I  can  only  say,  that  my  intercourse  with  them 
has  been  very  general  and  intimate,  and  I  do  not  hesitate 
to  affirm  my  belief  that  not  a  single  member  but  feels 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  ministration  of  our  pastor, 
and  more  than  that  —  they  are  not  only  satisfied,  but  will  be 
filled  with  deep  sorrow,  if  the  bond  which  unites  us  shall 
be  broken.  As  to  those  who  worship  with  us  who  are 
not  members  of  the  church,  I  must  say,  I  have  been  much 
surprised  at  the  feeling  manifested  on  their  part,  since  the 
rumor  has  been  circulated  that  there  was  a  prospect  of 
our  pastor's  leaving  us.  Persons  whom  I  supposed  per 
fectly  indifferent  whether  we  had  a  minister  or  not,  have 
manifested  much  anxiety ;  and  without  giving  names,  I 
will  say,  that  the  wealthiest  person  in  our  town,  and  one 
whom  many  of  us  have  feared  was  not  only  indifferent, 
but  positively  an  enemy  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel, 
has  offered  to  me  to  bind  himself  and  his  property  to  the 
amount  of  two  hundred  dollars  a  year,  if  by  that  means 
salary  enough  could  be  raised  to  prevent  what  he  said 
would  be  a  calamity  to  the  whole  town. 

"My  firm  belief  is,  sir,  that  no  man  living,  has  the  same 
chance  to  do  good  among  us  as  yourself;  please  excuse 
my  plain  speaking." 

When  Mr.  Bellows  had  concluded,  the  members  in  turn 
arose  and  gave  their  testimony,  all  going  to  confirm  in  the 
most  decided  manner  the  plain  statement  Mr.  Bellows 
had  made,  interspersing  their  remarks  with  accounts  of 
what  had  been  said  to  them  by  indviduals  both  in  the 
church  and  out  of  it.  At  the  conclusion  the  Doctor  arose. 
He  was  evidently  deeply  moved.  His  fine  manly  face  was 
suffused  with  an  unusual  glow,  and  as  he  commenced,  the 
tremor  that  marked  his  utterance  affected  those  about  him 
with  the  most  intense  interest.  Some  heads  were  bowed 
down ;  and  others,  with  strong  emotion  manifest  in  their 
rigid  features,  fixed  their  eyes  earnestly  upon  him. 

"  Brethren,  I  bless  God  for  the  'evidence  which  your 
testimony  gives  me  that  my  labors  here  have  not  been 
in  vain  in  the  Lord.  And  your  assurance  of  the  love  of 


272  LOOKING   AROUND. 

this  people  towards  me  as  their  pastor  is  the  more  grati 
fying,  for  the  reason  that  I  have  courted  no  man's  favor. 
I  have  without  fear  warned  and  exhorted  and  reproved, 
not  from  the  pulpit  only,  but  personally  in  private.  I 
have  kept  my  hands  free  from  bribes,  —  no  gifts  have  I  al 
lowed  myself  to  receive,  although  many  have  been  ten 
dered,  because  I  wished  to  stand,  as  a  minister  of  Christ, 
on  fair  vantage  ground,  independent  of  their  worldly  goods, 
that  I  might  offer  to  them  the  riches  of  salvation  through 
Jesus  Christ. 

And  now,  brethren,  taking  your  word  as  my  warrant  in 
favor  of  my  usefulness  among  this  people,  and  having 
weighed  according  to  my  best  judgment  the  whole  mat 
ter  of  this  call,  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is 
not  my  duty  to  do  violence  to  your  feelings  and  my  own, 
too.  I  will  not  leave  you." 

It  would  be  in  vain  to  attempt  a  description  of  the 
scene  that  followed ;  all  rose  by  a  simultaneous  impulse, 
they  crowded  around  him,  each  by  turns  grasping  his  hand. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken.  Tears  —  yes,  tears — not  often 
seen  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  men  of  their  years  and  sturdy 
character,  told  what  their  tongues  could  not  utter,  nor 
could  that  pastor,  with  all  his  self-command,  keep  back 
those  tokens  that  his  heart  was  deeply  stirred. 

Mr.  Barnes  was  present  —  he  was  one  of  the  deacons. 
He  had  not  said  much,  for  his  heart  was  too  full  to  allow 
many  words.  After  the  scene  above  described,  and  order 
was  again  restored,  he  was  the  first  to  rise. 

"  Brethren," — he  did  not  address  himself  to  the  modera 
tor,  —  "  we  are  now  safe,  our  pastor  won't  leave  us,  but  we 
have  something  to  do ;  he  has  sacrificed  his  worldly  in 
terests  for  us,  we  must  do  something  for  him.  I  move  his 
salary  be  increased  five  hundred  dollars.  You  all  know 
the  money  can  be  raised  as  easy  as  nothing." 

The  Doctor  immediately  arose. 

"Brethren,  this  proceeding  is  not  quite  in  -order.  I 
overlook  its  impropriety  for  the  fact  that  we  are  all  some 
what  under  the  influence  of  feeling.  But  allow  me  to  say 
on  this  subject,  while  I  feel  very  grateful  for  the  spirit  man 
ifested  towards  me,  yet  I  cannot  j^y  any  means  consent  to 
the  plan  proposed.  How  would  it  appear,  brethren,  when 


LOOKING   AROUND.  273 

it  becomes  noised  abroad.  It  would  look  like  this  —  "  your 
pastor  has  received  a  call  to  another  church  with  a  large 
salary  attached  to  it  —  his  own  people,  in  order  to  keep  him, 
at  once  increased  his  pay,  and  he  concluded  not  to  leave 
them."  What  inference  would  the  world  draw  ?  Either 
that  you  had  not  done  what  was  right  you  should  have 
done, — which  would  not  be  true  ;  or  that  I  was  influenced 
by  mercenary  motives  —  which  would  also  be  untrue ;  and 
we  should  both  stand  in  a  false  light  as  a  Christian  pastor 
and  people,  and  what  is  infinitely  of  more  consequence, 
the  cause  of  our  beloved  master  would  be  injured. 

But,  brethren,  to  put  your  minds  at  rest  on  this  matter, 
I  assure  you  that  I  am  comfortably  provided  with  all  the 
necessaries  of  life.  You  know  my  style  of  living,  and 
how  my  table  is  spread  from  day  to  day*  "We  have  enough 
and  to  spare.  Economy  I  consider  a  Christian  virtue,  and 
have  therefore,  as  the  head  of  this  people,  always  felt  it  my 
duty  in  that  to  set  no  example  which  might  by  possibility 
do  an  injury  to  sound  morals.  My  expenses  have  indeed 
increased  since  I  first  came  among  you,  and  so  have  my 
receipts.  The  few  acres  of  land  attached  to  my  home 
have  become  a  material  source  of  income,  and  that  with 
out  encroaching  on  my  time  or  labor.  I  expect,  brethren, 
now  to  live  and  die  among  you,  and  I  have  no  fear  that 
if  at  any  time  I  shall  need  more  at  your  hands  it  will  be 
forthcoming ;  let  all  our  efforts  be  more  decided  in  build 
ing  up  our  Zion  here  and  elsewhere.  That  should  be  our 
aim,  and  by  all  the  means  in  our  power  let  us  endeavor  to 
win  every  unconverted  soul  among  us  to  the  fold  of  Christ." 

The  members  of  the  session  for  the  most  part  were 
somewhat  taken  by  surprise  at  the  motion  made  by  their 
brother  member,  for  although  all  were  heartily  in  favor  of 
it,  yet  they  knew  there  was  a  manifest  impropriety  in 
bringing  forward  such  a  subject  in  the  presence  of  their 
pastor ;  but  all  knew  how  ardent  and  impulsive  were  the 
feelings  of  brother  Barnes,  and  that  being  a  junior  mem 
ber,  although  an  elder  among  them,  he  was  not  well  versed 
in  etiquette.  They,  however,  resolved  that  something 
should  be  done  in  a  proper  way  and  time,  the  result  of 
which  must  be  left  for  another  place. 
12* 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  reverend  Doctor  having  sent  off  his  letter  which 
contained  his  declinature  to  the  call,  couched  in  such 
terms  as  to  leave  no  opening  for  anything  further  to  be 
said  to  him  on  that  subject,  felt  his  mind  greatly  relieved ; 
a  burden  had  been  rolled  off,  and  his  path  of  duty  seem 
ed  perfectly  plain. 

There  were  some  things,  however,  that  still  demanded 
his  attention.  He  had  declined  a  call  to  labor  in  a  larger 
field,  "  was  there  any  thing  to  be  done  in  that  he  now  oc 
cupied,  that  he  had  neglected?"  As  he  was  looking 
round  over  his  parish  and  reflecting  upon  its  condition, 
light  broke  upon  his  mind,  and  he  clearly  perceived  that 
on  one  point  at  least  he  had  been  deficient ;  he  had  not 
counted  sufficiently  on  his  power  over  those  who  were 
out  of  the  church,  and  who  had  manifested  such  indiffer 
ence  to  religion  as  not  to  attend  religious  services  on  the 
Sabbath,  or  to  do  so  very  irregularly.  Some,  he  knew, 
had  acquired  a  habit  of  staying  at  home  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  being  somewhat  advanced  in  years,  would  not  be 
likely  to  break  through  it.  Various  causes  had  operated  to 
produce  such  cases.  W  ith  some  it  had  been  an  offence 
taken  at  a  former  pastor,  or  at  some  members  of  the  church ; 
others  had  been  detained  a  long  time  from  the  sanctuary 
by  chronic  difficulties,  until  they  formed  an  idea  that  they 
could  not  be  confined  during  an  hour  and  a  half  in  one 
position.  The  number  of  such  persons  was  not  large,  but 
their  influence  was  baneful,  and  if  possible  must  be  nulli 
fied.  If  they  would  not  come  to  hear  the  gospel,  the  gos 
pel  must  be  carried  to  them.  He  had  not,  indeed,  neg 
lected  them,  and  had  conversed  with  them  in  private,  but 
he  had  strong  faith  in  the  public  preaching  of  the  word. 
He  therefore  resolved  to  hold  meetings  near  their  places 
of  residence  ;  perhaps  they  would  come  out,  or  might  even 
be  induced  to  have  meetings  appointed  at  their  own 
houses. 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  275 

There  were  also  persons  living  on  the  outskirts  of  the 
parish,  some  of  them  too  poor  to  own  the  means  of  com 
ing  to  the  house  of  God  in  a  decent  vehicle,  and  the  dis 
tance  was  too  far  to  be  traveled  on  foot,  by  those  who  felt 
no  interest  in  religion.  And  the  gospel  must  be  carried 
to  them,  and  the  service  must  be  regular,  and  not  merely 
occasional  —  as  it  had  been.  On  the  whole,  after  looking 
over  the  field  with  this  new  sense  of  responsibility,  he 
found  it  large  enough,  and  the  work  important  enough, 
to  fill  all  his  time  and  thought,  and  to  demand  even  the 
active  co-operation  of  those  members  of  his  session  who, 
under  his  eare,  had  been  educated  to  conduct  meetings 
with  ability  and  profit. 

It  was  not  many  days  after  he  had  sent  off  the  letter 
before  mentioned,  and  while  he  was  busily  occupied  in 
his  study  preparing  a  programme  for  immediate  addition 
al  labor,  when  he  was  notified  that  some  strangers  were 
in  the  sitting-room,  and  wished  to  see  him.  On  entering 
the  room  he  found  three  gentlemen  waiting  his  presence, 
two  of  them  immediately  arose  and  grasped  his  hand  with 
much  cordiality. 

"  Brethren,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  I  am  most  happy  to  see 
you  under  my  roof." 

"  And  I  am  very  happy  to  see  you,  brother  Ransom,  look 
ing  so  hale  and  surrounded  with  so  many  beauties.  You 
must  be  a  great  lover  of  flowers,  the  very  air  is  scent 
ed  with  them,"  said  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

"  Allow  me,  brother  Ransom,  to  introduce  you  to  my 
friend,  Mr.  Tremain,  from  our  city,"  said  the  other  gen 
tleman. 

"  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Tremain,  as  he  gave  his  hand  to 
the  Doctor,  "  we  are  not  quite  strangers,  sir,  although  we 
have  not  met  before." 

"  This  is  the  Mr.  Tremain,  then,  who  has  so  befriended 
that  dear  youth,  William  Herbert  ?  " 

"  William  Herbert,  sir,  has  been  his  own  best  friend, 
or  perhaps  you  have,  sir;  for  he  ascribes  all  there  is  right 
and  efficient  in  him,  to  your  kind  care  and  judicious  coun 
sel.  We  business  men  cannot  afford  to  take  young  men 
out  of  friendship,  or  to  give  them  a  share  of  our  business, 
because  we  feel  kindly  disposed ;  they  must  rise  by  their 


X 
276  LOOKING    ABOUND. 

own  efficiency,  we  must  feel  confident  they  can  serve  ua 
to  a  purpose,  and  then  we  give  them  a  chance  to  help 
themselves  at  the  same  time.  Will  is  a  fine  fellow,  though, 
— a  noble  fellow, — he  will  make  his  way  if  his  life  is  spared." 

"  Your  report  of  him,  sir,  is  very  gratifying  to  me,  and 
I  heartily  agree  with  you  as  to  the  principle  upon  which 
you  act  in  reference  to  young  men.  It  is  not  kindness  to 
any  young  man  beginning  life,  to  stretch  out  the  helping 
hand  too  liberally;  by  doing  so,  we  are  likely  to  get 
him  into  a  situation  which  he  is  not  qualified  to  fill.  And 
I  believe,  brethren,"  turning  to  his  two  clerical  guests,  "if 
we  followed  more  strictly  the  rule  which  this  gentleman 
says  governs  business  men  in  selecting  clerks  or  advanc 
ing  those  they  employ,  in  the  matter  of  encouraging  young 
men  to  enter  the  ministry,  or  in  giving  them  license  to 
preach,  it  would  be  better  for  many  of  them  and  for  the 
church  too." 

"  That  is  the  very  point,  Doctor  Ransom,"  said  Mr.  Tre- 
main,  '<that  I  have  been  arguing  with  these  reverend 
gentlemen  on  our  way  up  from  the  city.  I  insist  upon  it, 
if  a  young  man  has  the  root  of  the  matter  in  him,  if  he 
has  a  strong  desire  to  preaeh  the  gospel,  and  has  that  sta 
bility  of  character  and  energy  of  will  necessary  to  make 
an  efficient  gospel  minister,  he  will  accomplish  his  purpose 
—  he  will  work  his  way  into  it  in  spite  of  difficulties,  and 
such  a  man  will  be  worth  to  the  church  and  the  world, 
more  than  a  dozen  of  your  milk  and  water  folks,  that  are 
helped  and  boosted  and  coaxed  along.  See  how  it  is 
now.  We  have  been  more  than  a  year  looking  around  for 
a  minister.  We  have  had  young  men  by  the  dozens,  trying 
their  best  in  our  pulpit,  and  many  of  them  exciting  the 
ridicule  or  the  pity  of  our  people." 

"But,  Mr.  Tremain,"  replied  quickly  one  of  the  rever 
end  gentlemen,  "  you  must  keep  in  mind  that  our  city 
congregations  labor  under  a  disadvantage, —  they  have  be 
come  accustomed  to  fine  preaching,  they  have  itching  ears, 
the  gospel  must  be  preached  to  them  in  a  more  finished 
style ;  there  are  other  fields  where  these  young  men  can 
labor  and  be  useful,  and  seeing  the  great  want  of  laborers, 
we  must  try  to  obtain  as  many  as  possible  ;  all  cannot  be 
men  of  superior  talent." 


LOOKING   AROUND.  277 

"  True,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tremain,  "  but  it  seems  to  me 
there  is  a  certain  amount  of  talent  that  is  absolutely  nec 
essary,  and  characteristics  of  a  peculiar  kind.  There  should 
be  at  the  foundation  ardent  piety — not  merely  the  mani 
festation  of  piety  sufficient  to  save  a  man  —  there  should 
be  good  common  sense,  there  should  be  strong  resolution 
and  a  mind  capable  of  enlargement.  These,  it  seems  to  me, 
are  essential  requisites,  and  with  these  a  man  may  not  be 
a  brilliant  speaker ;  but  with  the  glorious  truth  she  has  to 
deal  in,  he  will  be  able  to  command  the  reverence  and  re 
spect,  at  least  the  attention  of  his  audience.  There  must 
be  an  innate  quality  that  will  enable  a  man  to  command 
circumstances  and  make  them  bend  to  his  will,  or  to  take 
advantage  of  them  to  further  his  end.  For  instance,  take 
the  case  of  this  young  man  whose  name  has  brought  up 
this  subject.  He  came  to  me  a  stranger ;  he  had  lost  a  fine 
place,  not  through  any  fault  of  his,  though.  I  wanted  a 
young  man,  and  had  been  wanting  one  for  some  time.  He 
had 'been  brought  up  to  another  line  of  business.  I  had 
not  conversed  with  him  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  I  felt 
sure  he  was  the  one  I  had  been  looking  for,  and  could  not 
find.  I  perceived  he  had  self-reliance,  he  had  energy  and 
determination,  he  would  not  be  daunted  at  trifles,  he 
thought  quick  and  justly,  and  would  give,  his  whole  heart 
and  soul  to  the  work  before  him.  As  I  said,  he  had  been 
trained  to  another  line  of  business,  but  in  three  weeks  from 
the  time  he  came  to  me,  he  sailed  for  a  foreign  port,  to  be 
among  people  of  a  strange  language, —  strange  to  him  — 
and  to  take  charge  of  large  interests,  with  great  responsi 
bilities  resting  on  his  proper  management.  And  I  have 
not  been  disappointed  in  him.  The  talent  for  business  Avas 
in  him,  any  one  could  see  that,  and  his  whole  mind  was 
bent  upon  it.  He  was  determined  to  make  a  man  of  him 
self,  and  he  has  done  it.  The  great  deficiency  I  find  in 
ministers, —  you  will  pardon  my  freedom,  gentlemen,  —  is 
that  their  hearts  do  not  seem  to  be  in  their  work." 

Mr.  Tremain  was  well  known  to  the  reverend  gentle 
man  who  had  accompanied  him,  and  therefore  the  remark 
did  not  surprise  them,  even  if  it  was  not  very  palatable. 
He  was  an  active,  keen  business  man,  and  yet  a  true  friend 
to  the  church  and  all  benevolent  operations.  He  was  not 


278  LOOKING   AROTTNT). 

large  in  person,  rather  below  the  medium  height,  but  his 
mind  was  ready  and  well  stored  with  general  knowledge, 
his  eye  was  a  true  symbol  of  his  chai'acter,  bright,  pene 
trating,  clear  and  full ;  he  spoke  with  a  fluency  and  gener 
ally  at  once  to  the  point.  His  known  energy  and  ability 
had  induced  the  congregation  which  had  given  the  call  to 
Dr.  Ransom,  and  to  which  he  belonged,  to  appoint  him, 
in  connection  with  two  of  the  moi-e  influential  members  of 
the  Presbytery,  pastors  in  the  city,  to  call  upon  the  rever 
end  gentleman  and  exert  their  influence  to  persuade  him 
to  reconsider  the  decision  he  had  made  ;  and  for  this  ob 
ject  they  were  now  at  his  house.  Mr.  Tremain  would  not 
in  all  probability  have  accepted  the  appointment,  if  it  had 
not  been  that  he  wished  to  see  the  Doctor  on  some  pri 
vate  business,  for  he  had  no  faith  in  any  efforts  that  could 
be  made  to  that  end.  He  had  learned  so  much  of  his  char 
acter  through  William  Herbert,  that  he  believed  the  sub 
ject  had  been  thoroughly  weighed  in  his  own  mind,  and 
his  decision  would  be  final. 

Having,  as  soon  as  propriety  would  permit,  introduced 
the  object  of  their  mission,  and  unfolded  their  views  and 
wishes  in  quite  a  long  statement  of  the  peculiar  condition 

of  the Street  church,  and  the  difficulty  of  procuring 

a  minister  of  the  right  stamp,  the  Doctor  replied, 

"I  believe,  gentlemen,  I  have  considered  most  of  the 
arguments  you  have  advanced,  but  they  have  not  con 
vinced  me  that  it  was  my  duty  to  accept  the  call.  There 
is  much  work  to  be  done  here,  and  I  think  from  all  I  can 
learn  that  no  one  under  present  circumstances,  can  do  the 
work  so  well ;  here  I  have  influence,  and  if  faithful,  may 
hope,  with  God's  blessing,  to  accomplish  some  good  —  in  a 
new  situation  the  result  of  my  labors  would  be  doubtful. 
I  have  also  a  serious  objection  to  the  manner  in  which 
your  churches  in  the  city  are  organized, —  you  have  no 
poor  among  you." 

"  Oh,  but  brother  Ransom ! "  exclaimed  the  two  clergy 
men  almost  in  the  same  breath,  "  that  should  not  be  an 
objection,  the  rich  need  preaching  to  as  well  as  the  poor, 
and  the  poor  have  free  churches,  where  they  can  attend 
without  any  cost." 

"  I  know  that,  my  dear  sirs,  I  am  well  aware  how  that 


LOOKING  ABOUND.  279 

matter  is  arranged,  but  it  does  not,  to  ray  mind,  remove 
the  objection.  There  must  be  something  wrong,  either  in 
the  views  and  feelings  of  the  church  itself,  or,  as  I  said,  in 
the  organization  of  your  religious  societies.  When  a 
building  is  erected  for  the  worship  of  Almighty  God,  and 
solemnly  consecrated  to  Him,  it  becomes  a  place  where 
no  such  invidious  distinctions  can  be  proper, —  the  whole 
tenor  of  the  gospel  is  against  it,  the  practice  of  our  Mas 
ter  and  his  Apostles  is  against  it,  and  for  my  own  part  I 
had  rather  preach  in  a  market-place  or  a  public  square, 
where  the  poor  and  the  outcasts  could  come  without 
shame,  than  in  the  most  splendid  edifice  where  none  but 
those  who  could  command  a  certain  amount  of  money, 
might  enter." 

"  But,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tremain,  "  how  is  the 
difficulty  to  be  avoided  ?  Our  buildings  cost  a  large  sum, 
oftentimes  considerable  portion  of  the  money  has  to  be 
borrowed  on  mortgage,  of  course,  then,  there  is  interest  to 
pay,  then  the  minister's  salary,  and  the  cost  for  music,  and 
the  pay  of  the  sexton,  and  a  thousand  items  of  expense 
too  numerous  to  mention.  All  these  require  a  large  in 
come  which  must  be  met  by  the  rental  of  pews ;  of  course 
the  rents  are  so  high  no  really  poor  person  can  afford  to. 
hire  one.  We  have  a  few  free  seats,  to  be  sure,  which 
are  generally  occupied  by  transient  visitors.  It  is  not 
just  the  thing,  many  of  us  are  aware  of  it,  but  how  to  re 
medy  the  evil,  there  is  the  trouble." 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  how  the  evil  might  be  met. 
Perhaps  when  you  who  are  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  who  real 
ize  its  inconsistency,  shall  have  thought  of  it  in  connec 
tion  with  some  passages  in  the  Scriptures  of  both  the  Old 
and  New  Testament,  a  remedy  will  no  doubt  suggest  itself. 
Our  Saviour  has  identified  himself  with  the  poor  of  this 
world,  and  his  disciples  must  beware  lest,  in  shutting  the 
doors  of  their  churches  against  the  latter,  they  should 
find  they  had  excluded  the  master  too." 

The  two  ministers  had  designed,  after  having  used  such 
arguments  as  presented  themselves  to  their  minds,  to  pro 
pose  that  the  subject  should  be  laid  before  the  Presbytery 
and  that  the  Doctor  should  abide  by  its  decision ;  but 
after  hearing  his  remarks,  they  concluded  to  say  nothing 


280  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

further  about  it.  He  was  not  one,  they  plainly  perceived, 
who  would  take  any  important  step,  without  being  satisfied 
in  his  own  mind  that  it  was  best  —  and  more  than  that, 
they  had  serious  doubts,  whether  after  all,  he  was  the  right 
man,  either  for  that  particular  church  or  for  their  Pres 
bytery.  There  was  a  decision  of  character  manifest, 
which,  in  connection  with  rather  obsolete  views  of  things, 
might  make  him  a  troublesome  member  at  times,  and  his 
ignorance,  as  they  thought,  of  the  peculiarities  of  city  life, 
might  get  him  into  difficulty  with  his  people  — just  as  if 
a  few  conventional  forms  so  changed  the  nature  and  re 
sponsibilities  of  man,  that  the-  simpler  truths  of  the  gos 
pel  must  be  modified  to  suit  his  taste. 

After  the  departure  of  the  reverend  gentlemen,  Mr. 
Tremaiu  lost  no  time  in  unfolding  the  errand  of  a  per 
sonal  nature,  which  had  brought  him  to  Woodburn. 

".And  now,  Doctor  Ransom,  as  this  church  business  is 
all  settled,  I  must  ask  your  attention  to  a  little  secular 
business.  You  are  no  doubt  acquainted  with  Miss  Stan 
ley,  the  daughter  of  the  deceased  Mr.  Stanley  with  whom 
Herbert  served  his  apprenticeship." 

"  I  may  be  said  to  be  pretty  well  acquainted  with  her, 
,  through  the  medium  of  our  young  friend,  but  of  course 
you  and  I  know  how  to  make  allowance  for  the  glorifi 
cation  views  of  a  lover.  I  have,  however,  from  what  per 
sonal  intercourse  I  have  enjoyed,  formed,  I  must  say,  a 
most  favorable  opinion  of  the  young  lady." 

"  I  have  never  seen  her,  but  must  do  so  forthwith.  And 
as  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  to  her,  of  a  rather  serious 
nature,  I  wish  to  have  an  introduction  from  a  source  that 
will  place  me  on  terms  that  will  command  her  respect. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  sir,  you  and  I  have  no  personal 
interest  in  the  business  for  which  I  have  more  especially 
come  here ;  but  we  both,  I  believe,  have  a  sincere  regard 
for  young  Herbert,  and  are  willing  to  do  Avhat  we  can  to 
relieve  his  mind,  which  is  at  present  much  disturbed  by 
the  situation  in  which  Miss  Stanley  is  placed.  And  in 
order  that  you  may  understand  matters,  I  will  tell  you 
the  cause  of  his  uneasiness.  She  is,  in  the  first  place,  as 
William  tells  me,  a  most  conscientious  person,  without 
guile,  unsuspicious,  confiding  and  intensely  averse  to  dis- 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  281 

cussion  or  family  difficulties  of  any  sort.  She  will  put 
up  with  almost  any  amount  of  imposition,  before  she,  will 
take  a  stand  for  her  own  rights,  if  thereby  hard  feelings 
would  be  created.  Her  father  has,  by  his  will,  placed  her 
under  the  guardianship  of  Mr.  Blan chard,  with  unlimited 
control  as  to  the  management  of  her  property.  Mr. 
Stanley  looked  upon  Blanchard  and  his  wife  as  very  near 
and  dear  friends;  and  had  unbounded  confidence  in 
Blanchard  as  a  shrewd  manager,  and  an  honest  man.  Un 
der  this  impression,  his  daughter  and  her  interests  were 
confided  to  him.  Mr.  Stanley  had  also  equal  confidence 
in  William  Herbert,  and  proposed  to  him  on  his  dying 
bed,  that  his  name  .should  be  placed  in  the  will,  as  joint 
executor  with  Blancbard.  For  reasons,  which  to  Herbert 
appeared  forcible,  he  declined  —  a  thousand  pities  that  he 
did  so.  Blanchard  I  know  well,  he  is  not  the  man  Stan 
ley  took  him  to  be ;  he  has  already,  I  have  reason  to 
know,  used  a  large  amount  of  this  young  lady's  property 
in  speculations  in  stocks.  He  is  a  reckless  speculator,  and 
he  is  —  but  no  matter  —  he  will  be  found  out  one  of  these 
days.  To  my  certain  knowledge,  he  is  at  this  present 
time,  about  to  raise  a  very  large  sum  on  fast  property  be 
longing  to  her  in  New  York.  The  ostensible  reason  for 
his  doing  this  is,  to  improve  some  vacant  lots,  in  the  up 
per  part  of  the  city,  belonging  to  Miss  Stanley,  by  build 
ing  on  them.  But,  sir,  I  know  that  a  man  who  operates 
largely  for  Blanchard  in  New  York,  in  buying  and  selling 
stocks,  is  expecting  to  receive  this  money,  and  when  it 
once  gets  into  his  hand,  I  do  not  believe  that  either  Blanch 
ard  or  Miss  Stanley  will  ever  see  a  dollar  of  it.  Now 
William  Herbert  knows  all  this,  and  his  mind  is  in  a  very 
disturbed  state ;  he  fears  Miss  Stanley  will  in  a  short  time 
be  utterly  stripped  of  her  property." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Tremain,  I  suppose  if  the  truth  could  be 
known,  William  would  not  regret  it." 

"  I  know,  sir,  he  has  some  foolish  notions  about  such 
matters ;  he  has  almost,  I  believe,  taken  a  vow  never  to 
marry  a  lady  that  has  a  cent  she  can  call  her  own." 

"  I  hope  he  has  not  done  that ;  but  I  am  not  surprised, 
knowing  as  I  do  some  things  in  his  past  history,  that  he 
should  prefer  that  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  should  look  to 


282  LOOKING   AROUND. 

him,  not  only  for  a  husband's  love,  but  as  a  dependent  on 
his  providing  care." 

"  He  has  romantic  notions  about  that,  I  know ;  but  then 
I  know  he  loves  Miss  Stanley,  and  the  idea  that  she  should 
be  stripped  of  her  property  and  brought  into  a  state  of 
dependence  on  such  a  man  as  Blanchard,  is  wormwood 
and  gall  to  him  ;  it  almost  crazes  him  think  to  of  it." 

"  Cannot  the  young  lady  choose  another  guardian  ?  " 

"  She  can,  sir,  and  promised  Herbert  when  he  left  her 
up  here,  that  she  would  do  so,  if  a  suitable  person  could 
be  found ;  and  sir,  I  have  consented  to  act  in  that  capac 
ity  for  her.  But  the  trouble  is  here,  sir.  I  fear,  before  the 
forms  could  be  gone  through  with,  Blanchard  would  make 
such  a  disposition  of  things  that  there  would  be  little  left 
to  protect.  He  is  an  artful  man  about  some  things,  though 
a  fool  otherwise.  But,  sir,  since  I  left  New  York,  in 
thinking  over  the  whole  matter,  I  have  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  the  best  thing  possible  to  be  done,,  is  that  they 
should  be  married." 

«  Married ! " 

"  Yes,  sir,  married.  That  is  a  ceremony  soon  performed, 
and  when  once  buckled  together,  all  the  power  of  Blanch 
ard  over  her  and  her  property,  ceases  on  that  instant.  By 
the  will  of  her  father,  if,  at  any  time  after  eighteen,  she 
should  marry,  she  and  her  husband  are  to  be  seized  in  full 
right  of  her  property,  as  though  she  was  of  age." 

"But, my  dear  sir,  they  are  not  engaged,  even." 

"  That  may  be  so,  but  Will  is  dead  in  love  with  her,  al 
though  he  will  not  acknowledge  that  he  has  any  hope  she 
would  ever  consent  if  he  were  to  ask  her ;  yet,  from  some 
things  that  have  dropped  from  him  in  the  course  of  con 
versation,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  she  loves  him  full 
as  much  as  he  does  her.  But,  sir,  perhaps  you  and  I  can 
do  much  towards  bringing  this  thing  about.  You  have 
unbounded  influence  over  him.  He  looks  upon  you,  sir, 
as  even  more  than  a  father." 

"  I  have  always,  Mr.  Tremain,  regarded  this  relation  as 
one  with  which  third  persons  should  never  intermeddle." 

"  I  agree  with  you  perfectly,  sir,  on  that  point ;  that  is,  so 
far,  that  the  parties  themselves  shall  have  no  outside  in 
fluence  in  the  matter  of  their  regard,  one  for  another. 


LOOKING   AROUND.  283 

The  action  of  their  hearts  must  be  a  free,  spontaneous 
emotion,  and  in  this  case,  we  should  have  nothing  to  do 
with  that.  But  Herbert  will  be  up  here  in  the  boat  to 
night;  it  was  my  request  that  he  should  come,  for  I  might 
need  his  aid  in  satisfying  Miss  Stanley's  scruples  about 
breaking  with  Blanchard,  she  having  been  so  long  under 
his  power.  When  it  came  to  the  pinch,  she  might  demur, 
and  want  to  put  the  matter  off;  but,  sir,  something  must 
be  done,  and  that,  too,  without  a  moment's  delay.  The 
money  Blanchard  has  bargained  for,  is  all  ready ;  the  pa 
pers  are  all  drawn,  and  everything  ready  to  close  the  mat 
ter  up  this  very  day,  and  it  would  have  been  done,  but 
for  my  interference.  The  man  who  loans  the  money,  is 
one  of  my  most  intimate  friends.  He  tells  me  all  his 
transactions.  I  advised  him  not  to  let  the  money  go  out 
of  his  hands,  until  he  had  Miss  Stanley's  name  to  the 
mortgage  deed,  and  he  has  taken  my  advice,  and  in  all 
probability  Blanchard  will  come  up  in  the  same  boat  to 
night,  to  get  this  accomplished.  We  must  be  beforehand 
with  him,  if  we  can.  We  must  see  her  before  ten  o'clock 
to-night,  and  I  shall  use  all  my  influence  to  prevent  her 
signing  those  deeds ;  and  then,  sir,  we  must,  if  possible, 
get  her  to  come  back  with  us  to  your  house.  Herbert  will 
be  here  unexpectedly  to  her,  and  he  must  do  what  he  can 
to  get  her  consent  to  be  his  wife,  and  then  we  can  settle 
matters,  sir,  in  short  order." 

The  Doctor  listened  with  profound  attention  while  Mr. 
Tremain  was  in  his  business  style,  thus  arranging  for  the 
sudden  union  of  parties  who  were  to  seal  their  life's  des 
tiny  by  a  decision  of  only  a  few  hours  time.  He  was  not 
used  to  such  hasty  proceedings ;  it  was  his  habit  to  look 
well  around  and  examine  carefully  before  he  took  any  im 
portant  step  himself,  or  advised  others  to  do  so.  But 
more  especially  in  this  case  was  he  unwilling  to  decide 
hastily.  William  Herbert  he  loved  with  almost  parental 
affection.  His  influence  over  him,  he  had  reason  to  be 
lieve,  was  greater  than  that  of  any  other  friend.  To  ex 
ert  it  under  such  circumstances,  and  for  such  an  end,  was 
at  once  repugnant  to  all  his  sense  of  propriety.  It  was, 
therefore,  some  time  before  he  made  any  reply  to  the  sug 
gestion  and  reasoning  of  the  gentleman ;  so  Mr.  Tremain 
again  remarked : 


284  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  sir,  if  any  tiling  is  done,  we  have  no 
time  to  lose." 

"  That  is  very  true,  sir.  I  feel  for  the  young  lady,  and 
can  appreciate  the  necessity  for  prompt  and  strenuous 
measures.  It  may  be,  the  step  you  propose  is  the  best  pos 
sible,  but  I  have  my  doubts  whether  the  parties  them 
selves  will  consent  to  it.  To  use  my  power  over  a  young 
man  who  looks  to  me  for  guidance,  and  who  from  pecu 
liar  circumstances,  regards  my  advice  almost  with  rever 
ence  in  a  most  serious  matter ;  but  sir,  this  I  will  do.  I 
will  accompany  you  to  Mr.  Blanchard's,  and  endeavor 
to  persuade  Miss  Stanley  to  return  with  us.  I  will  also, 
if  William  comes,  have  a  free  conversation  with  him,  and 
ascertain  his  views  and  feelings ;  further  than  this  I  can 
not  promise  at  present." 

"  Good,  good,  sir.  Now  let  us  hurry  off  as  fast  as  pos 
sible." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

We  left  Mr.  Blanchard  under  very  unpleasant  circum 
stances.  He  had  blundered  into  a  difficulty,  and  knew 
not  well  how  to  get  over  it.  Very  soon  after  his  second 
interview  with  Mrs.  Jemima,  he  retired  to  his  room  for  the 
night.  He  wanted  to  be  alone  and  think  over  matters, 
and  see  what  course  he  must  take ;  and  he  could  not  but 
hope  that  the  lady  upon  reflection,  would  herself  perceive 
that  he  had  not  really  made  any  proposals  to  her,  and  that 
his  conduct  at  the  close  of  their  interview,  manifested 
anything  but  pleasure  at  the  tokens  of  her  regard.  But 
Mrs.  Jemima's  conduct  the  next  morning,  and  through  the 
day,  whenever  she  had  an  opportunity  to  be  alone  with 
him,  showed  clearly  how  she  understood  matters.  She 
would  address  him  in  low,  confidential  tones,  and  with  all 
the  tenderness  her  voice  was  capable  of.  He  was  distant, 
reserved,  and  kept  himself  out  of  her  way  as  much  as 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  285 

possible.  Fortunately  for  him,  but  very  unfortunately 
for  Miss  Stanley,  she  returned  about  the  middle  of  the 
day.  Her  presence  afforded  a  foil  against  the  obnoxious 
attentions  of  Mrs.  Jemima.  It  was  a  great  relief  to  him, 
to  have  one  with  whom  he  could  converse  without  being 
obliged  to  listen  to  confidential  remarks,  and  soft  and  ten 
der  tones.  Eva  had  come  home  sooner  than  he  expected. 
His  spirits  rose,  and  he  was  quite  amiable  and  talkative 
that  is,  when  Mrs.  Jemima  was  not  present ;  but  if  Mr. 
Jemima  was  not  personally  present  most  of  the  time,  she 
was  there  in  spirit,  and  her  body  not  far  off.  Her  suspi 
cions  began  to  be  aroused  to  an  intense  degree.  The 
marked  change  in  Mr.  Blanchard,  as  soon  as  Miss  Eva  ar 
rived,  his  very  particular  attention  to  her,  and  the  lively 
manner  in  which  he  conversed,  whenever  her  (Mrs.  Je 
mima's)  presence  was  withdrawn,  all  tended  to  kindle  a 
fire  within.  She  was  nervous,  restless,  going  in  and  out 
apparently  on  very  urgent  business,  but  keeping  most  of 
the  time  within  hearing  and  seeing  distance. 

But  the  severity  of  trial  was  yet  to  come.  Mr.  Blanch 
ard  had  been  thinking  hard  all  day,  and  had  at  last  made 
up  his  mind  what  to  do.  He  dare  not  risk  another  inter 
view.  He  would  write  a  short  note,  and  as  he  was  de 
signing  to  go  to  New  York  that  evening,  he  would  hand 
it  to  her  as  he  left,  or  he  would  leave  it  with  Eva  to  give 
it  to  her.  It  was  not  an  easy  matter  for  Mr.  Blanchard 
to  write  such  an  article,  and  it  required  several  sheets  on 
paper  to  be  wasted  before  any  thing  in  right  shape  could 
be  accomplished.  The  following,  however,  he  finally  set 
tled  upon  as  the  best  he  could  do,  it  certainly  was  ex 
plicit. 

"  COUSIN  :  — You  have  misunderstood  my  intention.  I 
did  not  ask  you  to  marry  me.  I  merely  wished  to  let  you 
know  that  I  intended  to  get  married  ;  and  that  I  wanted 
your  assistance  in  making  matters  smooth.  I  hope  you 
will  take  it  all  in  good  part,  and  let  it  pass  as  a  mistake. 
I  shall  be  back  soon  as  possible. 

Yours  truly,  &c." 

On  leaving,  he  handed  the  letter,  directed  and  sealed,  to 
Eva,  saying  — 


286  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

"There  is  a  little  misunderstanding  between  Aunt  Je 
mima  and  me,  and  this  note  will  explain  things  to  her. 
Will  you  please  hand  it  to  her  after  I  am  gone  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  the  innocent,  guileless  young 
lady,  "  with  pleasure." 

And  very  soon  after  Mr.  Blanchard  had  left,  with  a 
pleasant  smile  upon  her  countenance,  she  placed  the  doc 
ument  into  the  hand  of  the  lady. 

"Who  is  this  from?" 

"  I  suppose,  of  course,  from  Mr.  Blanchard  —  he  asked 
me  to  hand  it  to  you." 

"  Asked  you  !  " 

Eva  did  not  reply,  for  she  saw  that  the  countenance  of 
Mrs.  Jemima  was  distorted  by  that  almost  demoniac  scowl 
which,  at  times,  marred  her  visage ;  and  was  about  to  go 
into  her  own  room,  when  Mrs.  Jemima  caught  her  arm. 

"  Don't  go  —  come  in  here  with  me  —  I  want  to  talk 
with  you." 

The  clasp  about  her  arm  was  so  severe,  and  the  tones 
of  the  voice  so  stern,  that  Eva  was  somewhat  alarmed, 
although  she  endeavored  to  conceal  her  feelings,  and 
yielded  at  once  to  the  request.  As  Eva  took  a  seat,  the 
infuriated  woman  turned  the  lock  of  the  door  and  put  the 
key  in  her  pocket.  She  then  went  near  the  lamp  in  order 
to  read  more  particularly  the  letter  which  had  so  worked 
up  her  wrath.  Eva  was  one  of  those  gentle  natures,  that 
not  only  shrink  from  contention  as  the  sensitive  plant 
shrinks  from  the  touch,  but  a  stunning  effect  is  produced 
upon  the  mind,  that  prevents  a  proper  possession  of  the 
faculty  of  thought  and  speech.  She  sat,  therefore,  mute, 
and  for  a  few  minutes  scarcely  exercising  her  thinking 
powers.  An  undefined  dread  of  the  person  within  whose 
power  she  had  so  suddenly  been  placed,  she  had  long  in 
dulged.  She  knew  her  to  possess  an  ungovernable  tem 
per.  It  had  never  as  yet  been  brought  to  bear  upon  her, 
and  she  had  been  careful  to  avoid  all  difficulty  with  her ; 
in  fact,  she  had  very  little  to  do  with  Mrs.  Jemima  or  Mrs. 
Jemima  with  her.  She  had  her  own  rooms,  and  her  old 
nurse  to  wait  upon  her.  She  took  her  meals  with  the 
family,  or  if  indisposed,  they  were  carried  to  her  room ; 
and  of  late  Mr.  Blanchard  had  been  very  particular  in  see- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  287 

ing  that  every  attention  was  paid  to  her  when  at  the  ta 
ble,  or  that  the  very  nicest  of  every  thing  on  the  table  or 
in  the  house  was  provided  and  sent  up  to  her  when,  for 
any  cause,  she  did  not  come  down.  This,  no  doubt,  was 
noticed,  and  had  its  influence  ;  but  hitherto,  however  Mrs. 
Jemima  may  have  felt,  she  had  treated  the  young  lady 
with  all  respect.  And  yet  this  dread  which  Eva  felt,  had 
some  foundation  besides  the  mere  fact  that  the  lady  had 
a  very  violent  temper.  There  were  rumors  of  a  very  un 
pleasant  nature  that  had  only  of  late  reached  the  ears  of 
Eva,  and  perhaps  no  one  in  the  family  besides  herself 
had  heard  them.  They  had  come  to  her  through  Aunt 
Betsey  —  or  Lizzie  as  she  was  more  generally  called, —  her 
nurse,  who  had,  just  before  she  left  New  York,  met  with 
an  old  acquaintance  who  had  lived  in  the  family  of  Mrs. 
Jemima,  and  was  there  when  Mr.  Richards  died  ;  and  she 
affirmed  it  as  her  belief  that  "it  was  no  natural  sickness 
which  carried  off  Mr.  Richards,  and  that  the  doctor  said 
his  disease  was  a  very  strange  one ;  and  it  was  her  firm 
belief  he  either  poisoned  himself  or  it  was  administered 
by  somebody  else.  She  also  believed  a  cei'tain  person 
was  not  a  bit  too  good  to  do  it.  She  is  a  very  devil  when 
she  gets  a  spite  against  man  or  woman." 

Now  Aunt  Betsey,  whether  wisely  or  not,  had  commu 
nicated  this  gossip  to  Eva  but  to  no  other  person,  and  Eva 
had  strictly  charged  her  never  to  open  her  lips  to  any  hu 
man  being  on  the  subject,  and  likewise  said  it  was  no 
doubt  a  foolish  suspicion  on  the  part  of  the  person  who 
had  told  her.  And  yet  Eva  was  somewhat  affected  by  what 
she  had  heard,  and  the  more  so,  as  she  had  of  late  at  seve 
ral  different  times  when  in  company  with  Mrs.  Jemima  and 
Mr.  Blanchard,  on  turning  her  eye  unexpected  by  that  lady 
in  the  direction  she  was  sitting,  been  not  a  little  startled 
at  perceiving  the  peculiar  expression  on  that  lady's  coun 
tenance,  and  as  their  eyes  met,  Eva  instinctively  turned 
away ;  there  was  something  in  the  look  that  sent  a  chill 
to  her  heart.  And  now  all  these  circumstances  are  work 
ing  in  her  mind,  and  yet  so  perfectly  unconscious  was  she 
of  having  done  ought  to  cause  the  displeasure  of  the  lady, 
that  she  could  not  quite  make  herself  believe  there  was 
reason  for  any  fear.  What  she  dreaded  most  was  witness- 


288  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

ing  some  outbreak  of  passion,  and  being  perhaps  com 
pelled  to  hear  the  outpouring  of  her  wrath  upon  some 
member  of  the  family.  While  Eva  was  thinking,  Mrs.  Je 
mima  was  reading ;  it  took  longer  to  do  this  than  the  length 
of  the  epistle  seemed  to  require, — perhaps  the  writing  was 
not  very  legible,  or  she  read  it  over  more  than  once,  that 
she  might  be  sure  of  its  contents.  Having,  however,  at 
length  finished  the  task,  she  crumpled  the  letter  up  in  her 
hand  in  a  passionate  manner,  and  approaching  Eva  held 
out  the  clenched  hand  very  near  to  her : 

"  And  you  know  all  about  this." 

Eva  trembled,  but  her  self-possession  was  returning  — 
she  answered  in  as  calm  a  manner  as  possible, 

"  I  know  nothing  whatever  about  it." 

"  You  do  —  you  know  you  do  —  don't  lie  to  me." 

This  violent  and  vulgar  address  brought  the  rich  blood 
to  Eva's  face  ;  she  fixed  her  mild  blue  eyes  fixedly  on  the 
angry  woman. 

"  You  forget,  Mrs.  Richards,  whom  you  are  addressing. 
I  am  not  used  to  such  language,  and  shall  not  remain  here 
to  listen  to  it  —  open  the  door  and  allow  me  to  depart." 

"  I  shall  not  do  it,  you  have  got  to  hear  me." 

Eva  started  and  hastened  towards  the  window,  design 
ing  to  call  for  help,  but  the  infuriated  wretch  caught  her, 
and  with  main  force  compelled  her  to  take  a  seat ;  Eva 
indeed  did  not  resist,  she  felt  too  indignant  to  struggle 
against  the  violence  offered  her. 

"  Now  you  shall  hear  me  —  yes  you  shall.  You  want 
to  marry  Blanchard  and  he  wants  to  marry  you,  and  all 
you  both  are  afraid  of  is  the  children,  and  he  wants  me  to 
be  a  go-between,  and  make  it  all  smooth  for  you  both. 
I  shan't  do  it  —  I  shan't  do  it  —  and  more  than  that,  I 
warn  you.  Mind  that  I  warn  you.  Think  of  marrying 
Blanchard  at  your  pei-il !  See  what  will  come  of  it.  Mind, 
I  warn  you  —  do  you  hear ! 

Eva  heard  and  she  saw  too,  for  as  though  under  a 
fascination  she  kept  her  eye  fixed  on  the  countenance  of 
her  persecutor,  and  never  before  had  she  witnessed  in  a 
human  being  such  marks  of  deadly  passion.  The  cheek 
was  pale,  the  eye  glassy  and  distended,  the  brow  contract 
ed,  the  lips  pale  and  trembling,  and  the  whole  visage  an 


LOOKING    AROUND.  289 

image  of  terror.  To  reason  with  a  person  in  that  condi 
tion,  or  to  deny  the  accusation,  Eva  knew  would  be-  use 
less  ;  she  therefore  merely  stood  upon  her  own  rights. 

"  And  who  gave  you  authority,  Mrs.  Richards,  to  inter 
fere  with  me  in  any  way.  I  am  not  amenable  -to  you  or 
any  one  else." 

"Yes,  you  are  —  yes,  you  are.  '  Mr.  Blanchard  shall 
never  marry  you,  much  as  you  want  to  have  him  ;  and  let 
me  tell  you  more,  all  the  family  know  what  you  are  after. 
Why  did  you  come  up  here,  when  you  knew  the  children 
were  not  coming?  You  knew  you  would  be  alone  with 
him,  and  that  is  what  you  wanted ;  but  take  care,  ta*ke 
care.  I  warn  yoli." 

How  much  of  truth  there  was  in  what  the  angry  wo 
man  was  saying,  Eva  did  not  know.  She  had  been  some 
what  alarmed  of  late  by  the  peculiar  manner  of  Mr.  Blanch 
ard  towards  her,  it  might  be  indeed  that  the  family  had 
some  suspicions  too,  such  as  Mrs.  Jemima  hinted  at.  There 
Avas  something  for  her  to  think  of.  She  saw  at  once  how 
her  conduct  might  be  misconstrued.  As  she  was  too  busi 
ly  occupied  with  these  thoughts  to  make  any  reply,  Mrs. 
Jemima  stood  over  her  in  silence,  apparently  ready,  at  any 
moment,  to  commit  any  act  of -violence,  when  the  sound 
of  a  carriage  was  heard  entering  the  yard.  It  was,  no 
doubt,  Joe  returning.  He  had  been  to  the  landing  to  car 
ry  Mr.  Blanchard.  Whether  she  feared  the  coachman 
might  obtrude  upon  them  with  some  message  from  Mr. 
Blanchard,  or  satisfied  with  the  warning  she  had  given, 
she  commenced  walking  the  room,  then  suddenly  taking 
the  key  from  her  pocket,  unlocked  the  door  and  departed. 

Eva  sat  a  few  moments  pondering  over  the  scene  she 
had  passed  through,  and  then,  in  a  very  disturbed  state  of 
mind,  retired  for  the  night.  Under  present  circumstances, 
however,  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  resign  herself  to  sleep. 
Her  nerves  had  been  violently  shocked,  and  as  she  lay 
upon  her  pillow,  the  heavy  throb  of  her  temples  caused 
her  to  change  from  side  to  side  in  restless  agitation.  At 
length  she  forgot  the  commotion  of  her  frame,  by  fixing 
her  mind  intently  on  the  circumstances  in  which  she  was 
placed.  The  story  which  her  nurse  had  told  her,  came 
with  great  force  to  her  mind.  The  behavior  of  that  wo- 


290  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

man  had  confirmed  her  worst  suspicions.  She  believed 
her  capable  of  any  evil  act  under  the  influence  of  her  vio 
lent  feelings,  and  a  terrible  fear  took  possession  of  her 
mind.  How  long  she  laid  in  this  state  of  tumultuous 
thought,  she  could  not  tell,  but  she  supposed  it  to  have 
been  some  hours,  when  her  attention  was  arrested  by  hear 
ing  footsteps  approaching  her  room.  Her  light  was  not 
extinguished.  She  arose  and  sat  up  in  her  bed.  The 
latch  of  her  door  was  turned,  and  the  door  gently  opened. 
She  was  not  in  the  habit  of  fastening  it.  There  stood  the 
woman  who  had  so  filled  her  mind  with  terror.  She  was 
clad  in  her  night-dress,  her  face  deadly  pale,  her  eyes  dis 
tended,  but  the  angry  scowl  had  disappeared.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  small  lamp,  and  in  the  other  a  tumbler 
half  filled  with  a  colored  mixture.  Eva  said  not  a  word, 
and  for  a  moment  the  tall  white  figure  was  stationary,  then 
it  approached  the  bed. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  could  not  sleep.  I  am  sorry  I  said 
what  I  did,  you  must  not  mind  it.  My  feelings  were 
worked  up  by  that  letter.  I  am  very  sorry,  and  I  have 
brought  you  a  little  something  to  calm  your  nerves,  so 
that  you  may  rest.  I  was  very  foolish,  but  you  must  not 
think  of  it  any  more.  Here,  take  this,  dear,  and  then  lay 
down  and  try  to  sleep.  Is  Aunt  Betsey  asleep  ?  " 

Aunt  Betsey,  as  she  called  her,  lay  in  the  adjoining 
room,  and  the  door  between  the  rooms  was  partly  open. 
As  the  glass  was  handed  towards  Eva,  the  hand  that  held 
it  shook  visibly,  and  the  tones  of  the  voice  were  broken 
and  low,  manifesting  an  agitated  spirit. 

Eva  took  no  notice  of  what  had  been  said  further  than 
to  reply  to  the  last  question. 

"  I  presume  she  is,  I  have  not  been  in  her  room." 

"  Well  then,  take  this,  and  forget  what  has  happened, 
and  try  to  sleep.  I  am  afraid  you  will  be  sick." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  Eva,  taking  the  glass. 

"  Only  a  little  lavender  and  water,  and  a  few  drops  of 
laudanum  —  not  more  than  ten.  Take  it  all,  it  wont  hurt 
you." 

"  I  don't  think  I  need  it".  Laudanum  never  agrees  with 
me." 

Eva  had  raised  it  near  enough  to  her  lips  to  perceive 


LOOKING   AROUND.  291 

so  strong  a  flavor  of  the  article  she  disliked,  as  to  make  it 
offensive.  She  therefore  said, 

"  Please  put  the  tumbler  on  the  table,  and  if  I  feel  the 
need  of  anything  I  can  get  it,"  and  she  handed  it  back  to 
the  woman.  As  Mrs.  Richards  took  it,  her  fingers  touch 
ed  those  of  Eva  —  they  were  cold  as  death. 

"  You  don't  forgive  me,  then.  You  wont  take  it  because 
1  have  brought  it  to  you." 

The  voice  began  to  assume  a  harder  tone. 

"I  don't  need  it." 

"  You  are  afraid  of  it." 

«  Why  should  I  be  afraid  of  it  ?  " 

"  And  Eva  fixed  her  eye  on  the  visitor ;  that  of  the  lat 
ter  quailed  before  her  earnest  gaze,  and  for  the  first  time 
since  entering,  the  color  mantled  her  cheek.  She  replied 
in  a  sharp  tone. 

"  How  do  I  know ! "  and  in  a  hurried  manner  she  left 
the  room,  carrying  the. draught,  whatever  it  was,  with  her, 
her  manner  evidently  the  reverse  of  what  it  was  at  her 
entrance  ;  and  Eva  could  hear  the  passionate  slam  at  the 
door  as  Mrs.  Richards  entered  her  own  room. 

Eva  now  arose,  and  bolted  her  own  door,  and  then  took 
a  seat  and  began  to  reflect  on  the  state  of  things.  Her 
mind  was  not  slow  to  act  when  once  aroused.  She  could 
not  stay  in  that  house  —  she  did  not  in  very  distinct 
terms  place  before  her  mind  all  the  reasons,  but  leave 
her  present  abode  she  must,  and  she  believed  that  could 
only  be  done  by  a  clandestine  departure,  for  no  doubt  re 
mained  in  her  mind  that  even  violent  measures  would  be 
\ised  to  prevent  her  going  away  under  present  circum 
stances. 

Mrs.  Richards  had  parted  from  her  under  the  conscious 
ness  that  she,  Eva,  suspected  her  of  an  evil  design  — 
what  she  had  done,  Eva  knew ;  what  she  was  capable  of 
doing  she  could  not  tell,  but  her  suspicions  were  too 
powerful  to  allow  her  to  venture  an  attempt  at  resistance 
to  the  will  of  such  a  woman,  or  to  remain  subject  to  her 
designs.  Joe,  the  coachman,  she  knew  was  completely  un 
der  her  influence,  —  an  eye  servant  at  best ;  the  gardener, 
who  lived  in  the  porter's  lodge,  had  a  bad  name,  and  was 
known  to  have  a  violent  temper.  Blanchard  wished  to  get 


292  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

rid  of  him,  but  feared  to  offend  him  by  turning  him  away ; 
and  the  women  in  the  house  were  as  subservient  to  Mrs. 
Richards" as  if  they  had  been  slaves.  As  has  been  said, 
too,  the  house  was  in  a  very  lonely,  secluded  spot,  sur 
rounded  by  mountains  and  woods,  and  no  neighbors  with 
in  a  mile  at  least. 

The  only  plan  that  appeared  feasible  to  Eva  was  to 
leave  the  premises  at  once,  and  on  foot  endeavor  to  reach 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Sandford.  The  distance  was  six  miles ; 
it  was  night,  and  the  road  for  the  greater  part  of  the  way 
ran  through  dense  woods,  and  but  a  few  dwellings  scat 
tered  at  considerable  intervals,  but  she  feared  not  the 
darkness  nor  the  loneliness  of  the  way,  and  at  that  hour 
of  the  night  there  was  no  likelihood  that  stragglers  would 
be  met,  —  from  which  cause  alone  she  need  have  any  fear. 
Her  only  doubt  was  in  reference  to  her  old  nurse,  —  should 
she  infoi'm  her  of  the  course  she  was  about  to  adopt  ? 
The  old  lady  was  asleep,  to  wake  her  and  make  explana 
tions  would  consume  time  and  most  likely  she  would  in 
sist  on  accompanying  her.  That  would  be  impossible,  the 
old  lady  could  not  accomplish  the  journey,  and  the  dis 
turbance  made  in  arousing  her  and  preparing  her  for 
going  would  excite  the  suspicions  of  Mrs.  Jemima,  whose 
room  was  next  adjoining  that  of  the  nurse.  She  decid 
ed  to  leave  her  in  ignorance,  and  as  soon  as  she  found  a 
place  of  safety  herself,  the  old  lady  could  be  sent  for. 

Moving  in  the  most  cautious  manner,  she  arrayed  her 
self  for  the  journey  and  then  extiguished  the  light.  Af 
ter  having  unbolted  and  opened  her  door,  she  proceeded 
with  the  greatest  care  along  the  corridor  to  the  stairs. 
She  had  to  pass  the  room  in  which  Mrs.  Jemima  slept, 
a  light  was  burning  there,  it  could  be  seen  reflected 
through  the  key-hole  on  the  opposite  wall ;  when  near  to 
it  she  paused  and  listened.  The  woman  was  still  up,  and 
was  walking  about  the  room  apparently  busy  about 
something.  For  a  moment  she  was  tempted  to  return, 
but  concluded  to  venture  on.  Step  by  step  in  the  most 
noiseless  manner  she  began  to  descend  the  stairs ;  one  of 
the  steps  creaked  under  her  tread.  Again  she  paused  and 
listened^  all  was  still ;  in  a  moment  more  she  heard  a  door 
open  —  it  was  the  door  of  the  lighted  room.  Almost 
choked  by  her  beating  heart,  she  was  only  kept  from  falling 


*•      - 

LOOKING  ABOUND.  293 

by  a  tight  hold  of  the  balustrade.  The  noise  had  been 
heard,  and  no  doubt  the  inmate  of  the  room  was  listening 
for  its  repetition  ;  the  light  from  the  room  was  sufficient  to 
make  Eva  perfectly  visible  should  any  one  look  over  the 
upper  railing.  Again  the  door  is  closed,  and  at  the  instant 
she  descended  the  stairs  and  reached  the  hall.  The  front 
door  was  the  only  one  she  knew  by  which  she  could  es 
cape,  for  the  rear  one  opened  into  the  back  yard  and  gar 
den,  around  which  was  a  high  fence,  and  what,  was  worse, 
a  furious  dog  was  kept  there  and  at  night  unchained. 

As  she  put  her  hand  forth  to  feel  for  the  key,  to  her  dis 
may  it  had  been  withdrawn  ;  for  what  reason  she  did  not 
know ;  but  her  mind,  now  thoroughly  filled  with  dread, 
at  once  put  the  worst  construction  upon  it.  She  thought 
quickly  of  the  windows  from  the  front  parlor,  but  their 
fastenings  were  complicated,  and  one  of  these  in  particular 
went  with  a  spring  that  made  considerable  noise ;  howev 
er,  as  no  other  way  of  egress  seemed  feasible,  she  resolved 
to  venture  removing  the  bolts  of  the  shutters.  After  hav 
ing  raised  the  window,  she  with  main  force  attempted  to 
restrain  the  spring  as  she  pressed  the  hasp,  but  her  feeble 
strength  had  little  effect ;  its  rebound  echoed  through  the 
room  and  the  hall,  and  could  doubtless  be  heard  by  any 
one  awake  in  the  house.  She  waited  not,  however,  to 
ascertain  its  effect,  but  springing  through  the  window  on 
the  piazza,  made  all  the  speed  she  was  capable  of  across 
the  carriage  path  into  the  grove,  and  from  that  to  the  path 
through  the  woods ;  this,  she  knew,  led,  after  several  wind 
ings,  into  the  highway,  or  at  least  into  an  open  road,  and 
the  one  she  designed  to  take,  as  being  less  likely  to  have 
travelers  upon  it. 

She  had  not  gone  far  when  she  turned  herself  towards 
the  dwelling,  and  she  could  plainly  perceive,  through  the 
openings  in  the  wood,  that  lights  were  passing  through 
different  parts  of  the  house  —  the  noise  had  alarmed  them, 
and  they  were  doubtless  searching  for  her.  Like  a  crim 
inal  fleeing  from  justice,  she  took  the  alarm  and  hurried 
on,  occasionally  pausing  for  a  moment  to  listen  if  any 
sound  of  approaching  footsteps  could  be  heard. 

A  mile  was  soon  passed,  and  the  path  she  was  upon 
would  soon  enter  the  more  public  road,  when  near  tho 
junction  she  stopped,  for  she  thought  she  heard  the  rum- 


294  LOOKING   AROUND. 

bling  of  a  carnage.  She  was  right, —  tho  tramp  of  horses 
and  even  the  sound  of  voices  reached  her  through  the 
still  night  air.  It  would  not  answer  for  her  to  remain  so 
near  the  road,  and  yet  she  wished  to  know  whether  it 
was  the  carriage  belonging  to  the  family ;  she  therefore 
stepped  aside  into  the  thicker  part  of  the  woods,  and 
drew  nearer  to  the  highway.  . 

On  and  on  came  the  lumbering  noise,  and  the  quick 
tramp  of  the  horses  told  of  rapid  speed ;  it  was  near  at  hand, 
she  could  see  its  dark  shadow  as  it  flitted  past.  She  recog 
nized  the  voices  of  the  two  men  who  were  seated  on  the 
high  cushion  in  front  —  they  were  the  coachman  and  the 
gardener.  Whether  any  persons  were  inside,  she  could  not 
tell.  As  soon  as  its  sound  had  died  away,  she  entered 
the  road  and  traveled  on.  What  would  have  been  the 
result  if  she  had  been  seen  she  did  not  know,  probably 
compelled  by  violence  to  be  carried  back  to  an  abode 
not  only  now  hateful  to  her,  but  a  place  of  terror. 

The  woods  still  skirted  the  highway  on  one  side,  and 
she  kept  close  to  them  as  she  could,  as  a  refuge  in  case 
the  carriage  should  return  that  way,  although  she  thought 
its  more  probable  course  would  be  to  return  by  the  more 
public  road  into  which  the  one  it  was  then  on  would  in  a 
few  miles  further  debouch.  Although  the  lofty  trees  of 
the  forest  made  the  way  more  dark  and  gloomy,  yet  she 
dreaded  the  light  more  than  the  darkness.  The  refuge  of 
the  woods,  however,  was  at  length  lost,  and  for  some  dis 
tance  the  road  was  skirted  by  stone  fences.  She  kept  near 
to  the  one  on  the  side  of  which  she  was  walking,  in  the 
hope  if  the  carriage  did  return  that  way,  she  might  hear 
it  in  time  to  escape  from  notice  by  climbing  over  into 
the  adjacent  fields. 

Suddenly  she  thought  she  again  heard  the  distant  rum 
ble  ;  she  paused  and  laid  her  hand  upon  the  fence,  but  the 
sound  ceased,  and  again  she  proceeded.  A  slight  hill  was 
before  her,  and  she  made  as  much  haste  as  her  weary 
limbs  would  allow,  in  the  hope  that  on  reaching  the  sum 
mit  she  might  have  a  sight  of  some  dwelling,  as  she  be 
gan  to  fear  her  strength  would  not  hold  out  to  enable 
her  to  accomplish  the  object  of  her  wish,  in  reaching  the 
homo  of  her  friends. 

She  had  nearly  reached  the  top  when  a  noise  as  of 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  295 

horses'  feet  again  fell  upon  her  ear.  She  paused  —  yes,  she 
had  heard  aright,  and  again  her  hand  was  on  the  stone 
wall.  She  attempted  to  raise  herself  up  ;  it  was  out  of 
her  power  to  surmount  the  obstacle,  and  to  her  utter  dis 
may,  but  a  few  rods  ahead  she  saw  the  dreaded  object 
rising  to  the  top  of  the  hill  and  approaching  her.  She  was 
petrified  with  terror ;  she  did  not  even  have  presence  of 
mind  enough  to  stoop  so  as  to  afford  no  chance  for  any 
pai-t  of  her  person  to  be  seen  above  the  line  of  fence. 
The  moon  had  set,  but  it  was  light  enough  for  persons  ac 
customed  for  some  time  to  its  dimness,  to  distinguish  ob 
jects.  When  opposite  to  her,  the  carriage  halted ;  the  two 
men  whispered  to  each  other  a  moment,  and  then  one  of 
them  sprang  from  the  seat  and  approached  her.  She 
stood  perfectly  still,  too  much  alarmed  to  be  capable  of 
motion. 

"  Is  this  Miss  Stanley  ?  "  It  was  the  gardener's  voice. 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Joe,  step  here.     Can  you  leave  the  horses  ?  " 

The  coachman  sprang  down,  and  coming  close  to  her  — 

"  Miss  Stanley,  is  this  you  ?  We've  been  looking  for  you 
this  two  hours ;  Mrs.  Jemima  is  most  frightened  to  death. 
Come,  please,  get  in,  you  must  be  very  tired." 

The  voice  of  the  man,  its  tones  being  kindly,  somewhat 
relieved  the  poor  frightened  girl,  and  she  began  to  exercise 
her  reasoning  powers.  They  would,  no  doubt,  use  force 
should  she  resist  the  request ;  to  prevent  such  humiliation 
she  concluded  the  better  way  would  be  to  yield  and  go  of 
her  own  accord ;  so,  without  answering,  she  walked  as 
well  as  she  could  to  the  carriage.  It  was  with  great  dif 
ficulty,  however,  that  she  was  able  to  reach  it.  Her  limbs 
trembled  violently,  and  when  once  upon  the  cushions, 
settled  down  as  helpless  as  an  infant.  The  carriage  went 
on  with  great  speed,  and  very  soon  was  at  the  door  of  the 
dreaded  mansion.  Mrs.  Jemima  was  there,  and  so  was 
her  old  nurse,  and  the  servants  of  the  house.  Without 
answering  any  questions,  or  taking  notice  of  any  one  but 
the  old  friend  of  her  childhood,  whose  arm  she  took,  glad 
even  to  have  that  support,  she  proceeded  at  once  to  her 
own  room,  followed  by  Mrs.  Jemima  and  the  servants. 
As  they  entered  the  room  she  said  in  a  mild  voice, 

"  I  shall  not  need  your  help,  girls." 


296  LOOKING   AROUND. 

They  were  .about  to  return  when  their  mistress,  in  a 
stern  manner,  called  out, 

"  Don't  you  stir  a  step,  either  of  you,  until  I  bid  you. 
Mrs.  Betsey,  you  can  take  the  small  spare  bedroom  for  the 
night.  I  and  the  girls  will  take  care  of  Miss  Stanley." 

"  Why  is  that  necessary,  Mrs.  Richards?  "  said  Eva. 

"  I  think  it  necessary, —  that  is  enough.  Jane,  bring  a 
mattress  and  pillow  and  lay  down  here.  You  heard  my 
request,  did  you  not  ?  "  turning  to  the  nurse  and  looking 
at  her  with  her  fierce  countenance.  The  old  woman,  with 
the  tears  streaming  down  her  face,  cast  one  piteous  glanco 
at  her  dear  Eva,  and  then  left  the  room. 

Mrs  Richards,  having  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key 
in  her  pocket,  ordered  one  of  the  girls  to  go  to  rest  on  the 
mattress,  while  the  other  sat  up  for  the  next  two  hours, 
when  they  could  change  places ;  but  to  be  sure  that  one 
of  them  should  keep  wide  awake,  and  to  call  her  if  any 
difficulty  occurred.  She  then  retired  into  the  room  which 
had  been  occupied  by  the  nurse. 

Eva,  conscious  of  her  present  helpless  condition,  threw 
herself,  as  she  was,  upon  her  bed,  and  wearied  with  excite 
ment,  and  the  labor  of  her  journey,  soon  forgot  her  mor 
tification  and  trials  in  profound  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  after  the  scenes  de 
scribed  in  the  last  chapter,  Mrs.  Jemima  was  up  in  Eva's 
room,  using  her  best  endeavors  to  get  the  poor  girl  to 
taste  some  of  the  food  she  had  prepared  for  her. 

I'  I  insist  upon  it,  now,  that  you  eat  some  of  this  broiled 
chicken  and  drink  this  cup  of  tea.  You  must  do  it,  you 
cannot  live  without  eating." 

"  I  have  eaten  all  I  want." 

"  What  have  you  eaten  !  nothing  but  crackers!  You 
cannot  live  upon  them  and  cold  water.  You  will  bring 
Borne  terrible  sickness  on  to  you." 

Eva  did  not  reply. 


LOOKIKG   AROUND.  297 

"  Come,  now,  I  have  coaxed  you  long  enough ;  eat  this 
you  must,  do  you  hear  me  !  " 

Eva  still  was  silent.  She  sat  in  her  rocking-chair  look 
ing  very  pale  and  sad. 

"  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Richai'ds,  "  go  right  down  and  call 
Joe  up  here,  and  tell  Jane  to  come  too.  I  will  see  wheth 
er  she  can't  be  forced  to  eat." 

"Mrs.  Richards,"  said  Eva,  starting  from  her  seat  and 
with  a  stern  countenance  looking  her  tormentor  full  in 
the  eye,  "  offer  such  an  insult  to  me,  as  to  bring  that  man 
servant  into  my  room,  and  you  shall  bitterly  repent  of 
your  injustice.  You  have  me  in  your  power  now,  bat  I 
have  friends  who  are  able  to  protect  me.  You  have  al 
ready  abused  your  trust,  in  your  shameful  treatment  the 
past  two  days,  and  I  warn  you  not  to  add  this  further  vio 
lence  to  my  feelings.  Mary,"  turning  to  the  young  wo 
man,  "  bring  that  man  up  here  at  your  peril." 

What  the  enraged  woman  would  have  done  at  this  bold 
resistance  to  her  authority,  it  would  be  impossible  to  say, 
for  just  then  the  servant  woman  came  up  from  below,  and 
entering  the  room,  said  : 

"  There  are  two  gentlemen  below,  wishing  to  see  Miss 
Stanley." 

"  Didn't  you  tell  them  she  was  sick  ?  " 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Richards,  I  didn't  just  say  she  was  sick, 
but  I  said  I  would  see  if  she  could  come  down." 

"  You  would  see  !  Go  right  down  and  tell  them  she  is 
sick,  and  not  able  to  see  any  one." 

"That  would  be  telling  an  untruth,  Mrs.  Richards," 
said  Eva,  who  had  thrown  her  shawl  about  her.  "  I  will 
relieve  Jane  from  doing  that  by  going  down  myself." 

"  Going  down  yourself! " 

"  Yes,  raadam,  and  if  any  violence  is  used  to  hinder 
me,  I  shall  call  aloud  for  help." 

"  Mrs.  Richards  began  to  feel  that  she  had  earned  this 
matter  as  far  as  pradence  would  permit.  She  saw  that  in 
Eva's  eye,  that  caused  her  to  pause  in  her  reckless  course. 
She,  no  doubt,  had  hoped  that  the  scene  through  which 
the  young  lady  had  passed  would  have  deranged  her  ner 
vous  system,  and  afforded  a  good  pretext  for  the  stringent 
measures  she  had  adopted.  In  this  she  had  utterly  failed. 
13* 


298  LOOKING  AROUND. 

Eva  had  retained  her  self-possession.  She  had  not  eat 
en  of  the  food  sent  up  to  her  for  reasons  perfectly  satis 
factory  to  herself,  but  she  had  by  a  strong  will  kept  her 
mind  calm  and  steady,  and  those  about  her  felt  conscious 
that  she  was  entirely  self-possessed,  and  in  the  use  of  her 
reason.  All  that  Mrs.  Richards  had  to  say,  was, 

"  Go  down  then,  and  tell  as  many  lies  as  you  please." 

Without  making  any  reply  to  this  rude  speech,  she  at 
once  descended  to  the  parlor. 

Both  gentlemen  rose  as  she  entered. 

"  Oh,  Doctor  Ransom  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  how  glad  I 
am  to  see  you  !  " 

"  Allow  me,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  to  introduce  to  you  Mr. 
Tremain,  a  gentleman  from  New  York  city,  who  wishes  to 
see  you  on  some  special  business." 

"  And  my  first  business,  Miss  Stanley,  is  to  endeavor  to 
persuade  you  to  accompany  us  to  the  house  of  this  rever 
end  gentleman ;  but  you  seem  to  be  unwell !  are  you  able 
to  endure  the  ride  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  so,  sir.  .  But  have  you  a  conveyance  that 
that  can  accommodate  my  old  nurse  as  well  as  myself?  I 
shall  not  in  all  probability  again  return  to  this  house,  and 
the  old  lady  will  be  very  much  in  the  way  here." 

"  We  have  a  carriage  and  pair  of  horses,  and  can  not 
only  accommodate  the  lady  you  speak  of,  but  your  trunks 
also,  if  you  wish  to  take  them." 

The  conversation  was  now  interrupted  by  the  sudden 
entrance  of  Mrs.  Jemima.  She  had  not  been  far  off,  and 
had  overheard  enough  to  know  what  was  going  on. 

Without  making  any  obeisance  to  the  gentlemen,  she 
addressed  herself  to  Eva. 

"  You  know  that  your  uncle  is  expected  home  to-night, 
or  to-morrow  night.  He  will  think  very  strange  that  you 
should  leave  his  house  and  take  your  nurse  and  baggage 
with  you ;  and  he  will  be  very  much  displeased, —  that  you 
may  know  —  for  he  is  your  guardian,  and  you  have  no 
right  to  leave  his  house  without  permission  ;  and  mind,  I 
forbid  it,  and  if  you  go,  it  is  at  your  own  peril  and  those 
who  enticed  you  away." 

.  "  My  good  madam,  we  will  free  you  from  all  responsi 
bility  to  Mr.  Blanchard,  or  any  body  else.  Tell  Mr.  Blanch- 
ard  that  Miss  Stanley  has  gone  with  the  advice  and  under 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  299 

the  protection  of  Mr.  Tremain  of  New  York,  and  tell  him 
moreover,  that  she  shall  have  the  best  of  care ;  and  now 
Miss  Stanley,  the  sooner  you  can  be  in  readiness,  the  bet 
ter." 

The  decisive  manner  of  the  gentleman  was  rather  a 
damper  to  Mrs.  Jemima's  temper.  She  had  designed,  when 
she  entered  the  room,  to  have  a  great  deal  to  say,  but  she 
began  to  think  it  would  be  of  little  avail.  So,  as  soon  as 
Eva  left  the  room  she  followed,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
Aunt  Betsey,  assisted  by  one  of  the  girls,  was  coming 
through  the  hall  with  one  of  the  trunks. 

"  The  way  seems  wonderfully  prepared  for  us,"  said  Mr. 
Tremain.  "  I  think,"  said  Doctor  Ransom,  "  there  must 
have  been  some  difficulty  —  Miss  Stanley's  appearance 
would  indicate  that  she  is  far  from  being  well.  I  never 
saw  greater  alteration  in  any  person  in  so  short  a  time." 

Mrs.  Jemima  again  enters. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  I  think  it  is  a  great  risk  for  you  to 
take  Miss  Stanley  away  in  her  present  condition ;  here 
have  I  and  my  servants  been  obliged  to  watch  her  night 
and  day  for  two  days  past,  for  fear  of  her  getting  out  and 
losing  herself,  may  be,  in  the  woods  and  dying  there,  and 
nobody  know  any  thing  about  it." 

"  But  what  makes  you  think,  madam,  there  is  any  dan 
ger  of  such  a  calamity  as  that  ?  " 

"  Reason  enough.  It  was  but  two  nights  ago,  she  slip 
ped  from  her  room  in  the  dead  of  the  night  and  went  out 
through  one  of  the  lower  windows.  I  heard  a  noise,  and 
when  I  found  she  was  gone,  sent  our  carriage  and  two 
men  in  pursuit,  and  they  found  her  on  the  way  to  the 
meeting-house.' ' 

"  What  reason  did  she  give  for  going  ?  " 

"  I  never  asked  her  the  reason,  but  I  watched  her  close 
ever  since ;  and  I  tell  you  now  she  ain't  well,  and  she 
will  do  some  mischief  to  herself  if  she  ain't  watched,  and 
Mr.  Blanchard  will  be  very  angry  when  he  hears  how  she 
has  been  carried  oflj  and  he  isn't  a  man  to  be  put  upon  in 
such  a  way. 

"  We  will  settle  all  that,  madam,  with  Mr.  Blanchard. 
And  here  is  my  card  —  you  may  forget  my  name  —  please 
hand  him  that,  and  tell  him  that  gentleman  will  bo  re 
sponsible  for  all  damages." 


300  LOOKING  ABOUND. 

Eva  now  appeared  ready  appareled  for  the  journey,  and 
very  soon  the  little  party  was  on  its  way,  leaving  the 
gloomy  abode  of  "Woodbend  at  a  rapid  pace. 

The  carriage,  at  Eva's  request,  was  driven  to  the  home 
of  her  friends,  the  Sandfords.  She  did  not  indeed  feel 
well,  and  she  wished  once  more  to  feel  herself  in  the  arms 
of  that  lovely  woman,  who  had  manifested  such  deep  in 
terest  for  her  welfare. 

It  was  just  at  the  edge  of  evening  when  the  carriage 
stopped,  and  as  Eva  entered  the  house,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  Mr.  Tremain,  Mrs.  Saridford  met  them ;  and  the 
poor  excited  girl,  exhausted  by  the  terrible  strain  upon 
her  physical  and  mental  powers,  threw  herself  into  the 
arms  of  her  friend,  helpless  as  an  infant.  She  was  assisted 
to  a  sofa,  and  in  a  few  moments  gave  vent  to  a  passionate 
flood  of  tears. 

Leaving  her  to  the  care  of  her  friend,  Mrs.  Sandford, 
the  gentlemen,  at  the  invitation  of  Mr.  Sandford,  adjourn 
ed  to  another  room,  and  were  for  some  time  in  earnest 
consultation  as  to  what  steps  had  best  be  taken.  At 
length  Mrs.  Sandford  entered,  her  countenance  manifest 
ing  deep  emotion. 

"Our  dear  Eva  has  been  treated  most  shamefully  — 
cruelly." 

"  I  thought  so,"  replied  Mr.  Tremain, —  "  by  whom  ? 
Blanchard  ?  " 

"  No,  by  that  hateful  woman,  his  cousin,  or  house-keep 
er,  or  whatever  she  is,"  and  Mrs.  Sandford  in  few  words 
repeated  the  scene  of  trial  the  poor  young  thing  had 
passed  through^  and  adding,  "•  this  is  not  all ;  she  says 
'she  never  can  be  an  inmate  with  Mr.  Blanchard  again,' 
—  and  calls  upon  all  who  care  any  thing  for  her,  to  res 
cue  her  from  his  power.  Oh !  "  said  Mrs.  Sandfoi'd,  "  how 
I  do  wish  William  Herbert  had  not  gone.  Once  Eva  in 
her  agony  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  William,  William,  why  did  you 
leave  me  ?  " 

The  three  gentlemen  looked  significantly  at  each  other, 
Mr.  Tremain  merely  saying,  "  let  it  work." 

"  Mrs.  Sandford,"  said  Mr.  Tremain,  "  can  vou  keep  a 
secret?" 

"  Sometimes,"  she  said  smiling,  "  when  I  make  a  prom 
ise  to  that  effect." 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  301 

"Well,  you  look  as  if  one  might  trust  you.  "William 
Herbert  will  be  here  this  evening." 

She  raised  both  her  hands.    I  thought  he  had  sailed !  " 

"  No,  he  will  not  sail  until  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  happy  thing  all  around,  if 
our  two  young  friends  could  be  married  ?  " 

"Married!" 

"  Yes,  madam,  married.  That  will,  at  once,  free  her 
from  all  annoyance.  She  will  be  under  the  protection 
of  a  husband,  and  all  trouble  of  procuring  a  new  guardian 
prevented.  Something  must  be  done,  and  that  without 
any  delay,  or  she  will  become  a  dependent  on  the  care  of 
Blanch  ard.  Can  you  not  prepare  her  mind  in  some  way 
for  such  a  step,  without  letting  her  know  that  Herbert  ex 
pects  to  be  here  ?  I  think  that  had  better  be  a  surprise." 

"  I  don't  know.  She  is  very  peculiar.  Why,  they  are 
not  even  engaged ! " 

"  Are  you  not  very  sure  they  love  one  another  ?  " 

"  I  think  they  do.  I  think  there  is  an  ardent  attach 
ment  on  her  part,  and  if  I  am  any  judge  about  such  mat 
ters,  on  his,  too  ;  but  a  woman,  you  know,  does  not  like  to 
be  hurried  into  matrimony.  I  fear  Eva  would  never  con 
sent  under  such  circumstances.  Only  to  think  of  it! 
Married  one  day,  and  the  next  her  husband  on  the  ocean! " 

"  But  such  things  have  been,  to  my  certain  knowledge, 
and  will  likely  be  again.  Sometimes  we  must  submit  to 
circumstances,  and  make  the  best  of  them.  But  in  this 
case,  it  will  not  be  married  one  day  and  off  the  next,  but 
married  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  off  at  ten. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  madam  ?  " 

"  I  think  it  would  be  dreadful !  It  would  be  cruel !  Oh 
dear !  I  never  could  have  the  heart  to  propose  such  a 
thing.  Eva  would  doubt  my  friendship." 

"  Well,  my  dear  madam,  your  good  husband  knows,  for 
I  have  told  him  just  how  things  are  situated.  There  is 
great  danger  that  before  a  new  guardianship  could  be  ar 
ranged,  every  dollar  of  that  girl's  property  would  be 
wheedled  away.  Blanchard-has  now  unlimited  power, — . 
a  wonder  to  me  a  parent  could  ever  have  placed  a  child 
in  such  a  situation  —  but,  by  the  same  will,  as  soon  as  she 
marries  after  she  is  eighteen,  she  and  her  husband  become 
possessed  in  fee  of  all  her  property, —  another  strange 


302  LOOKING   AROUND. 

clause  without  her  father  anticipated  her  marrying  Her 
bert,  in  whom,  I  believe,  he  had  great  confidence.  But  so 
it  is.  If  she  marries  William  Herbert  to-moi'row  morn 
ing,  she  is  a  free  woman ;  her  property  free  from  the  grasp 
of  a  —  shall  I  say  it  ?  Yes,  I  will,  for  I  believe  it  —  of  a 
rogue !  If  she  does  not,  it  is  my  candid  opinion  she  will 
be  in  a  short  time  penniless." 

"I  think,"  said  Mr.  Sandford,  "that  Mr.  Tremain  is 
right,  and  all  her  friends  can  do  to  accomplish  the  thing, 
they  ought  to  do." 

"  And  I  too,"  said  Doctor  Ransom,  "  cannot  but  come  to 
the  same  conclusion.  I  have  been  looking  around  at  this 
matter  in  all  its  bearings,  and  although  under  common 
circumstances  I  should  most  decidedly  object  to  such  pro 
ceedings,  yet,  as  the  young  lady  is  situated,  there  seems 
an  evident  propriety  in  the  measure,  if  she  can  be  brought 
to  assent  to  it." 

Mrs.  Sandford  returned  to  her  friend,  who  was  now  en 
joying  the  luxury  of  a  good  meal.  Free  from  guile  her 
self  she  was  not  the  most  suitable  person  in  the  world  to 
accomplish  the  task  assigned  her.  Again  and  again  she 
essayed  to  bring  up  the  subject,  but  her  tongue  refused  to 
bring  out  the  idea. 

As  young  Herbert  was  to  meet  Mr.  Tremain  at  the 
house  of  Doctor  Ransom,  the  two  gentlemen,  about  the 
hour  in  which  he  was  expected,  returned  to  the  parsonage. 
It  was  about  half  past  eight  when  a  gig  stopped  before 
the  door,  and  Mr.  Tremain,  who  was  on  the  watch,  being 
intensely  anxious  for  the  appearance  of  Herbert,  ran  out 
to  the  gate. 

"  Ah !  my  dear  fellow,  how  are  you  ?  " 
"  Mr.  Tremain !  glad  to  see  you,  sir.    Mr.  Roland,  Mr. 
Tremain." 

Herbert  had  sprung  from  the  gig  and  given  his  hand 
to  his  employer,  when  seeing  Roland  about  to  depart, — 

"  But  you  are  not  going !  you  will  come  in  surely  and 
see  the  Doctor." 

"  Do  you  think  it  best  ?  " 

"By  all  means,  and  it  may  be,  since  I  have  taxed  your 
politeness  so  far,  that  I  may  need  your  services  a  little 
further;"  and  then  turning  to  Mr.  Tremain,  "is  Miss 
Stanley  here?" 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  303 

"  No,  but  she  is  not  a  great  way  off —  she  is  at  the  Sand- 
fords  —  come  in,  Mr.  Roland,  come  in,  sir ;  why,  if  I  had 
such  a  delightful  neighbor  as  the  Doctor,  I  should  want 
to  be  running  in  every  evening, —  he's  a  trump,  sir." 

"  You  are  right  there,  I  believe,  sir,"  said  Roland  as  he 
xlighted. 

The  meeting  between  Doctor  Ransom  and  Wflliam  was 
marked  with  much  cordiality ;  although  on  the  part  of 
the  former,  there  was  a  seriousness  of  manner  mingled 
with  tenderness. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  am  rejoiced  to  see  you  again,  and  I 
cannot  but  hope  a  kind  Providence  has  brought  you  just 
at  this  time  for  an  important  purpose." 

Not  comprehending  the  allusion,  William  looked  intent 
ly  at  Mr.  Tremain.  "  Any  difficulty  ?  " 

"  Nothing  particular,  only  I  want  to  have  a  little  private 
talk  with  you." 

"  Go  into  the  study,  then,  gentlemen." 

William  immediately  led  his  friend  into  that  sacred 
place,  while  the  Doctor  at  once  engaged  young  Roland 
in  conversation  on  some  topic  of  interest.  It  seemed  a 
short  time  that  they  were  absent,  when  Mr.  Tremain 
re-entered. 

"  Doctor,  I  believe  you  are  the  only  person  who  can 
do  any  thing  with  that  young  man ;  you  have  instilled 
into  him  certain  principles,  and  you  alone  can  get  him  to 
deviate  from  them.  The  young  fool !  would  you  believe 
it,  gentlemen,  is  romantic  enough  even  to  wish  —  yes,  I 
believe  in  my  heart  he  wishes  it  —  that  that  orphan  girl 
might  be  stripped  of  all  her  property,  just  that  he  might 
have  the  pleasure  of  taking  care  of  her ;  he  loves  her 
dearly,  but  he  wants  to  have  her  dependent  on  himself 
alone,  the  foolish  fellow  ! " 

And  Mr.  Tremain  walked  up  and  down  the  room  evi 
dently  greatly  excited. 

"  I  honor  him  for  his  noble  feelings,"  said  young  Roland. 

"Yes,  yes,  that  is  all  very  well  for  you  young  men,  who 
know  nothing  about  the  world ;  but  how  does  Herbert 
know  where  he  will  land  himself?  Business  is  precarious, 
ten  thousand  chances  are  flying  about  the  world  to  pre 
vent  the  accumulation  of  property,  or  to  strip  it  away 
when  it  is  gathered ;  three  years  from  now,  he  may  be 


304  LOOKING   AROUND. 

pretty  well  off,  or  he  may  not  have  a  cent  —  and  here  is 
a  property,  earned  by  long  years  of  hard  labor,  about  to 
be  squandered  merely  for  the  sake  of  sticking  to  a  princi 
ple  —  hang  such  principles." 

And  again  the  excited  gentleman  resumed  his  tramp 
about  the  room. 

The  Doctor  had  been  seated  during  this  scene,  with  his 
eyes  bent  down,  and  with  a  very  serious  cast  of  counte 
nance  ;  he  saw  the  difficulties  in  the  way,  and*  had  seen 
them  all  along,  but  he  was  looking  round,  and  deeply 
agitating  the  question,  "  how  they  were  to  be  met."  Af 
ter  Mr.  Tremain  had  closed  his  last  address,  the  reverend 
gentleman  raised  his  head,  and  in  a  calm,  subdued  man 
ner,  thus  delivered  his  views : 

"  There  are  some  principles,  gentlemen,  derived  from 
the  express  teachings  of  the  word  of  God,  which  can  nev 
er  be  allowed  to  bend  to  circumstances, —  they  are  immuta 
ble  and  cannot  be  compromised ;  there  are  others  which  we 
may  lay  down  for  the  regulation  of  our  own  conduct,  right 
in  themselves,  and  perhaps  founded  on  our  own  past  ex 
perience,  or  on  what  we  have  witnessed  of  their  opera 
tion,  or  their  neglect  in  others ;  these  should  always  be 
maintained  firmly,  but  not  with  such  tenacity  that  they 
may  not  be  made  to  yield,  when  a  rigid  adherence  may 
cause  disaster  to  ourselves  and  others.  William  cannot  be 
blamed  for  having  formed  some  ideas  of  the  married  rela 
tion  that  have  made  a  very  strong  impression  on  his  mind, 
and  if  you  all  know,  as  I  do,  the  discipline  he  has  passed 
through  in  his  early  life,  you  would  not  wonder  that  he 
shrinks  from  violating  the  rule  he  has  laid  down  for  his 
own  course  in  this  respect ;  but  I  think  he  is  not  so  wed 
ded  to  his  principles  in  this  matter,  but  that  a  fair  expo 
sition  of  the  case  will  lead  him  to  see  what  duty  requires, 
and  to  yield  to  it." 

Mr.  Tremain  had  stopped  when  the  Doctor  began  to 
speak,  and  listened  attentively ;  the  moment  the  reverend 
gentleman  had  closed,  he  came  up  to  him. 

"  Will  you  not,  then,  niy  dear  sir,  go  at  once  and  try 
what  you  can  do  to  set  things  right ;  for  I  am  well  con 
vinced  the  fellow's  principles  on  this  subject  are  neither 
founded  on  scripture,  nor  reason,  nor  even  common  sense. 
The  Doctor' smiled  at  the  earnestness  of  the  gentleman, 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  305 

and  immediately  rose  to  depart ;  but  ere  he  reached  the 
door,  he  turned  again. 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  think,  gentlemen  ;  that  a  few  min 
utes'  interview  between  these  young  folks  under  the  pres 
ent  circumstances,  will  do  more  to  settle  matters  than  all 
our  persuasions.  Providence  has,  it  seems  to  me,  been 
preparing  their  minds  for  the  result." 

"  I  only  hope  he  will  carry  it  through,  then,"  said  Mr. 
Tremain,  and  again  he  is  walking  to  and  fro,  and  every 
little  while  looking  at  his  watch.  At  length,  as  though 
his  patience  was  exhausted,  he  exclaimed, 

"  I  am  afraid  the  good  Doctor  will  be  as  long  in  eradi 
cating  those  principles,  as  he  calls  them,  as  he  has  been  in 
hammering  them  into  that  foolish  fellow.  It  is  well  enough 
for  a  man  to  have  principles,  but  he  needs  a  good  stock  of 
common  sense  in  carrying  them  out." 

"  The  Doctor  himself  seems  to  have  a  good  share  of 
the  latter  article." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  has, —  a  very  sensible  man.  I  wish  they 
would  hurry  a  little, —  thei'e  —  I  believe  they  are  coming. 
You  are  going  with  Herbert,  are  you  not  ?  Be  alive, 
there,  my  good  fellow,  and  drop  in  a  good  word  to  help 
along.  Don't  say  any  thing  about  noble  feelings,  and  all 
that  —  all  that  is  well  enough  in  its  place.  Ah,  Will,  how 
are  you !  How  do  you  feel,  my  good  fellow?  This  was 
said  as  William  entered  the  room,  preceded  by  his  old 
friend.  Mr.  Tremain  took  his  hand.  He  saw  that  the 
yo'ung  man  looked  sad,  and  seemed  much  excited.  He 
placed  one  hand  kindly  on  his  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  boy,  keep  up  a  good  heart.  Things  will  be 
brighter  one  of  these  days." 

William  did  not  speak,  his  feelings  were  too  strongly 
excited.  Young  Roland  arose. 

"  Are  you  ready,  Herbert  ?  " 

William  bowed  assent,  and  they  left  the  house  in  com 
pany. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Eva,  as  she  was  reclining  on  the  sofa, 
to  her  good  friend  who  had  been  sitting  beside  her,  and 
beguiling  the  time  by  her  pleasant  converse,  "  why  it  is 
that  Mr.  Tremain  has  said  nothing  to  me  about  the  busi 
ness  for  which  he  said  he  wished  to  see  me." 

"  You  appeared  so  unwell,  dear  Eva,  when  he  left  you 


306  LOOKING    AROUND. 

here,  that  no  doubt  he  thought  you  would  be  better  pre 
pared  in  the  morning,  after  a  good  night's  rest,  to  attend 
to  it. 

"  Perhaps  I  shall.  I  feel  much  better  already.  Oh  what 
a  precious  thing  it  is  to  have  a  friend ! "  taking  the  hand 
of  Mrs.  Sandford. 

"  You  have  a  good  many,  dear  Eva." 

"  Yes,  I  believe  I  have  more  than  I  deserve.  Do  you 
know  I  am  very  selfish." 

"Not  peculiarly  so,  I  should  judge;  to  me  you  seem 
the  opposite  of  that." 

"  What  I  mean  is,  I  have  thought  too  much  of  my  own 
consequence,  and  have  not  thought  enough  of  others.  I 
have  for  that  reason  dealt  hardly  with  William.  I  have 
not  thought  enough  of  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed, —  poor  and  dependent  on  his  own  efforts,  too  noble 
minded  to  crouch  or  endure  insult,  and  yet  I  have  charg 
ed  him  with  trying  to  forget  me,  when  now  I  see  that  he 
could  not  have  done  otherwise." 

"  But,  dear  Eva,  your  mind  may  be  at  rest  about  that ; 
you  surely  feel  satisfied  now,  that  he  loves  you,  and  you 
cannot  deny  that  you  love  him." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  deny  it." 

"  You  feel,  dear  Eva,  do  you  not,  as  if  you  were  engag 
ed  to  each  other." 

"  Oh,  no,  by  no  means." 

"  Would  you  after  all  that  has  passed,  feel  yourself  at 
liberty  to  accept  an  offer  from  any  other  gentleman  ?  " 

"  By  that  you  mean,  could  I  love  another  ?  I  have  nev 
er  asked  myself  the  question.  The  thought  has  never 
crossed  my  mind.  Can  a  woman  ever  love  but  once  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  dear.  I  think  she  never  can.  The  idol 
which  her  mind  worships,  and  to  which  her  heart  has 
yielded,  is  not  likely  to  be  embodied  in  two  individuals." 

"  It  sounds  so  strangely  to  me  to  hear  people  speak  as 
they  do  about  offers,  and  sometimes  blame  young  girls  for 
not  accepting  such  a  favorable  offer,  just  as  if  a  woman 
could  help  it  and  could  force  herself  to  love." 

"The  reason  is  that,  in  general,  young  girls  are  so  de 
pendent,  their  only  chance  for  a  station  in  life  is  by  their 
connection  with  one  who  can  place  them  in  an  establish- 


LOOKING   ABOUND.  307 

ment  of  their  own.  You  are  differently  situated,  dear 
Eva.  You  are  independent,  and  I  hope  may  always  be  so. 
What  a  pity  it  is  that  William  Herbert  did  not  allow  your 
father  to  place  his  name  in  the  will  as  joint  executor! " 

"  Yes,  it  seems  so  now." 

The  conversation  was  here  interrupted  by  the  stopping 
of  a  carriage  at  the  door.  Mr.  Sandford,  who  was  in  the 
next  room,  was  heard  walking  rapidly  through  the  hall. 
Eva  arose  quickly  and  sat  up. 

"  Did  you  hear  that  voice !  "  she  said.  "  How  it  sounds 
like  William's ! " 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  was  now  heard  distinctly.  Eva  clasp 
ed  the  hand  of  Mrs.  Sandford  with  both  of  hers.  "  Stay 
by  me,  dear.  I  have  no  command  of  myself.  Can  it  be 
William!" 

"  It  may  be." 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened.  Eva  arose  as  Wil 
liam  entered.  She  stepped  towards  him  —  their  hands 
were  clasped.  She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  saw  his 
anxious,  tender  look,  and  then  gently  leaned  her  head  upon 
his  breast  and  wept, —  his  arm  was  entwined  around  her. 

"My  dear,  dear  Eva  —  mine  now  forever  —  is  it  not 
so?" 

"  Yes,  yes,  forever." 

"  No  cause  for  weeping,  now,  dear  Eva.  You  are  mine 
and  nothing  but  death  shall  tear  you  from  me."  And 
saying  this,  he  led  her  gently  to  the  sofa,  and  sat  beside 
her,  still  folding  her  in  his  warm  embrace. 

Mrs.  Sandford  was  about  to  retire,  but  Eva  requested 
her  not  to  go,  and  William  added  his  entreaty. 

"  You  have  witnessed  our  betrothal.  We  have  nothing 
to  say  that  cannot  be  said  in  your  presence." 

"  Eva,  dear  Eva,  there  are  reasons  why  this  union  of  our 
hearts  should  be  at  once  consummated  by  a  union  of  our 
hands.  As  your  husband,  I  shall  be  your  guardian.  Your 
independence  is  in  imminent  danger.  I  do  not  propose 
this,  I  tell  you  frankly  of  my  own  will';  but  our  best 
friends  advise  it,  and  my  own  judgment  overpowers  my 
sense  of  delicacy." 

"  When  I  last  saw  you,  William,  I  told  you  I  would  do 
whatever  you  thought  best.  Your  will,  hereafter,  must 
be  mine." 


308  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

Mrs.  Sandford's  warm,  loving  heart,  was  wrought  up  to 
the  highest  pitch  ;  she  was  weeping  in  sympathy  with  the 
sweet  girl,  and  when  she  heard  the  last  sentence,  she  fold 
ed  her  arm  about  her  neck  and  kissing  her,  said,' 

"Dear  Eva,  you  have  a  true  woman's  heart ;  may  God 
reward  you  in  the  richest  of  earthly  blessings, —  a  true 
husband's  love." 

William  was  much  affected.  He  had  a  strong  will,  and 
tears  could  be  restrained  when  those  around  him  were 
weeping;  but  the  scenes  were  new,  the  feelings  aroused 
were  never  experienced,  never  imagined  by  him  before, 
and  his  whole  nature  yielded  to  the  hallowed  influence  of 
the  moment,  and  now  the  drops  stole  silently  along  his 
manly  cheeks. 

But  the  hours  were  passing ;  if  rest  could  be  had  it 
would  be  required  for  the  morrow.  The  few  arrangements 
were  soon  agreed  upon,  and  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place,  that  was  to  bind 
these  loving  hearts  in  God's  holy  covenant  of  marriage. 

Young  Roland,  who  had  been  apprised  of  all  that  was 
desired  to  be  accomplished,  and  had  entered  heartily  into 
the  plan,  was  dispatched  to  the  parsonage  to  notify  the 
friends  there  of  the  happy  issue,  and  to  inform  them  of 
the  hour  at  which  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place. 

It  was  something  of  a  trial  to  William,  to  tear  himself 
from  his  dear  Eva,  but  he  knew  that  she  required  rest, 
and  his  sisters  must  be  visited  before  he  could  himself 
sleep  that  night.  Their  surprise  and  joy,  at  seeing  him, 
was  for  a  moment  damped  by  the  tidings  he  had  to  com 
municate  ;  but  it  was  only  a  momentary  shock.  They 
knew  they  should  not  lose  a  brother  but  would  gain  a 
sister,  and  with  joy  they  embraced  him  as  they  parted  for 
the  night,  their  minds  all  alive  with  gladness  at  the  pros 
pect  of  the  morrow. 

As  William  had  formed  quite  an  attachment  to  young 
Bradford,  he  and  Roland  were  invited  as  his  groomsmen, 
and  his  two  sisters  were  chosen  by  Eva,  as  her  maids  at 
the  ceremony. 

.  There  was  early  rising  on  that  morning,  for  every 
adornment  must  be  gathered  up  that  the  occasion  de 
manded,  and  all  seemed  determined  that  it  should  not  be 
a  slip-shod  wedding.  Eva  had  happily  a  dress  of  suitable 


LOOKING   AROUND.  309 

color,  which  she  had  never  worn  before,  and  which  she 
determined  never  to  wear  again  until  the  return 'of  her 
husband,  when,  if  God  so  willed  it,  she  would  meet  him 
with  each  jewel,  ribbon  and  flower  that  decked  her  as  a 
bride. 

Roland,  too,  was  up  early,  for  he  was  to  accompany 
William  and  Mr.  Tremain  to  the  city  with  his  carriage 
and  four  horses.  He  had  business  of  importance  to  be  set 
tled  there,  intimately  connected  with  that  in  which  they 
were  concerned.  He  had  also  to  provide  some  luxuries 
from  his  wine  vault,  which  he  brought  forth  without  stint. 
Donald  was  determined  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  impart 
gladness  to  the  hearts  of  the  guests.  A  great  change  had 
come  over  him  of  late,  he  was  no  longer  the  recluse  of 
former  days.  How  it  has  come  about  must  be  revealed  in 
another  place. 

"  I  told  you,"  said  Mrs.  Sandford,  as  the  guests  were 
chatting  together,  just  before  the  ceremony,  "  that  our 
gathering  on  board  that  sloop,  and  especially  the  episode 
of  the  storm  would  likely  have  a  bearing  on  our  future 
lives,  and  I  think  our  present  gathering  proves  that  I  am 
something  of  a  prophet." 

"  I  frankly  acknowledge  "  said  Roland,  "  that  I  have  felt 
its  influence,  and  look  back  upon  it  as  a  new  era  in  my 
life." 

"  And  that  '  breaking  of  bread '  at  your  hospitable 
board,  it  has  given  me  a  new  relish  for  breakfasts  ever 
since." 

"And  that  Eastern  custom,"  said  Roland  "has  that 
been  strictly  observed  ?  "  and  he  looked  at  Mrs;  Sandford 
for  a  reply. 

"  No  sir.     She  will  talk  about  some  of  her  guests." 

"  Only  good  though  —  now  papa  you  know  that  —  but 
here  comes  our  good  minister." 

The  bridal  scene  was  soon  arranged,  and  the  solemn 
vows  registered  on  earth  and  in  heaven ;  and  Eva  Stan 
ley  stood  by  the  side  of  William  Herbert,  his  lawful 
bride, —  their  hearts  long  united,  and  now  their  union 
sanctified  by  the  seal  of  God. 

As  the  friends  came  up  to  congratulate  the  happy  pair, 
happy  indeed  that  there  was  an  end  to  all  doubt,  no  pow 
er  of  man  could  now  interfere  with  their  union  or  sepa- 


310  LOOKING   ABOUND. 

rate  their  interests,  —  but  still  that  happiness  clouded 
with  the  thought  that  years  must  intervene  before  the 
full  fruition  of  their  hopes  could  be  realised.  Mr.  Tre- 
main  took  the  hand  of  the  bride. 

"I  congratulate  you  most  heartily  my  dear  young 
friend,  that  you  have  chosen  such  a  prudent  guardian.  I 
would  trust  him,  myself,  with  all  I  have  in  the  world. 
And  seeing  you  have  shown  yourself  such  a  true  woman, 
and  have  borne  yourself  so  nobly  through  this  whole 
scene,  I  have  concluded  to  tell  you  that  I  shall  make  ar 
rangements  that  will  shorten  the  period  of  his  absence. 
In  a  year  from  now  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  together  at 
my  house,  and  give  you  a  jolly  wedding  party.  Now 
may  I  have  a  kiss." 

Eva  had  stood  it  out  nobly,  as  Mr.  Tremain  said.  No 
one  present  could  have  told  from  her  appearance  that 
she  anticipated  in  two  short  hours  a  separation  from  him 
to  whom  she  was  plighting  her  faith,  but  this  sudden 
turn  in  the  wheel  of  destiny,  the  lopping  off  as  it  were 
of  two  long  years  of  hope  deferred,  aroused  every  warm 
emotion  ;  her  countenance  glowed  with  happiness,  her 
eye  sparkled.  She  threw  her  arms  around  the  kind- 
hearted  friend,  and  wept  for  joy. 

Partings  are  hard,  when  friends  who  truly  love  have  to 
separate,  make  the  best  you  can  of  them.  And  they  all 
did  try  to  do  that  —  all  but  Mrs.  Sandford.  She  couldn't 
try.  H«r  heart  was  so  sensitive,  she  was  so  alive  to  their 
feelings,  that  the  more  they  tried  to  restrain  their  feelings 
the  worse  she  felt,  until  her  husband  came  up  to  her 
and  said, 

"  Do,  dear  Carrie,  you  had  better  go  to  bed  and  cry  it 
out." 

But  they  have  not  gone  yet,  and  another  carriage  is 
just  added  to  that  which  is  before  the  gate,  with  its  four 
blooded  horses  ready  for  a  start.  And  the  exclamation 
passes  round, 

"  Blanchard's  carriage  !  " 

And  sure  enough,  it  was  so,  and  the  gentleman  himself 
immediately  alighted,  and  another  after  him. 

"  What  can  that  mean  ?  "  said  Roland  to  Mr.  Sandford. 

"  It  means  mischief —  but  he  is  too  late." 

Blanchard  walked  up  with  rather  a  proud  and  haughty 


LOOKING    ABOUND.  311 

gait,  and  stood  upon  the  stoop.  Mr.  Tremain  was  the 
first  to  encounter  him. 

"  I  demand  of  you,  sir,  to  deliver  up  to  me  my  ward, 
whom,  I  understand,  you  took  away  from  my  house  yes 
terday,  in  a  clandestine  manner." 

"  All  true,  except  clandestine  —  there  was  nothing  clan 
destine  about  it.  But  say,  Blanchard,  suppose  I  don't 
choose  to  deliver  her  up,  and  suppose  she  shouldn't  choose 
to  go  with  you." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  have  the  sheriff  of  the  county  with  me, 
who  will  see  that  my  rights,  as  guardian,  are  respected. 
Let  me  see  her,  sir." 

"  Blanchard,  come  in,  come  in  here  —  here?  pointing  to 
a  room  opposite  the  one  to  which  the  gentleman  was 
going.  "Don't  put  your  head  in  there,  it  might  be  taken 
off." 

"  Now,  Blanchard,"  said  Mr.  Tremain,  "  I  have  a  secret 
to  tell  you.  Do  you  know  we  have  had  a  wedding  here 
this  morning?" 

"  A  wedding !  no,  how  should  I  know !  " 

"  Well,  it  is  a  matter  you  are  interested  in,  any  how  — 
so  I'll  read  an  advertisement  to  you  that  I  have  written 
to  put  in  the  New  York  morning  papers  — 

MARRIED. 

At  the  village  of  Woodburn  on  the  morning  of  the  26th  June  18  — 
by  the  Rev.  Doctor  Ransom,  Mr.  William  Randolph  Herbert,  of  the 
firm  of  Tremain  &  Co.,  to  Miss  Evaline  Stanley,  daughter  of  the  late 
Robert  Stanley,  Esq.,  all  of  this  city.'" 

Blanchard  arose,  he  was  deadly  pale,  his  knees  trem 
bled,  and  his  whole  frame  was  in  agitation. 

"  And  for  this  purpose  you  stole  away  that  poor,  foolish, 
crazy  girl." 

"  I  advise  you,  Blanchard,  not  to  repeat  the  epithet 
you  have  applied  to  that  young  lady.  And  if  you  will 
take  my  advice,  given  to  you  in  good  faith  —  you  do  or 
say  nothing  that  will  prejudice  you  in  the  minds  of  those 
two  young  people.  You  are  now  helpless  as  regards  her, 
and  you  well  know,  that  by  the  will  of  her  father,  her 
husband  becomes  seized  of  all  her  property ;  and  bear  in 
mind,  he  is  personally  acquainted  with  the  exact  condition 
of  that  property,  when  it  came  into  your  hands.  Take 


312  LOOKING   AROUND. 

care  then,  walk  s.ofily  —  my  warning  is  given  in  good 
faith." 

Blanchard  made  no  attempt  to  reply,  he  was  not  so 
stupid  as  to  think  the  words  he  had  listened  to  were  mere 
bravado,  nor  so  blind  as  not  to  see  the  gulf  on  whose 
precipice  he  was  standing.  Without  a  word  more,  he 
left  the  room,  ascended  the  carriage,  followed  by  his  com 
panion,  and  was  driven  off  towards  his  home,"  in  all  prob 
ability  a  bankrupt  in  name  and  property. 

"  Now,  boys,  for  the  city,"  said  Mr.  Tremain,  as  he  came 
into  the  room  where  the  parting  scene  was  to  take  place, 
"  the  horses  are  prancing,  they  are  in  such  haste  to  be  on 
the  way,  and  so  am  I,  here  away  from  my  darling  wife 
for  two  whole  days,  how  do  you  think  I  stand  it  ?  —  com 
ing  up  to  the  lovely  bride  and  addressing  her. 

"  Your  noble,  generous  heart  sustains  you." 

"  And  may  God  sustain  you,  my  dear  girl ;  and  remem 
ber,  after  this,  I  am  Father  Tremain  —  that  boy  has  got 
a  father  and  a  good  one,  too.  Well,  .good  bye,  Doctor,  I 
wish  you  had  come  at  our  call,  and  I  am  glad  you  haven't, 
for  if  all  I  hear  is  true,  you  are  doing  more  good  here, 
than  you  could  ever  hope  to  do  among  us,  miserable  sin 
ners  in  New  York.  Come  boys,  come"  this  was  said  just 
as  he  had  taken  Eva  in  his  arms  and  given  a  paternal  kiss. 
And  then  out  he  hastened,  as  no  doubt  he  was  unwilling 
to  witness  the  last  embrace  of  William  and  Eva.  And 
we  will  leave  too. 

The  Author  has  a  word  to  say  to  the  reader,  who  has 
had  the  patience  to  go  through  the  present  work.  You 
have,  perhaps,  become  somewhat  interested  in  a  few  of 
the  characters,  who  may  have  acted  an  important  part  in 
the  development  of  the  story,  but  of  whom  it  has  been 
hinted,  that  more  was  yet  to  be  said.  As  there  are  scenes 
of  deep  interest,  connected  with  their  history,  which 
could  not  be  brought  out  without  increasing  the  present 
work  to  a  forbidding  bulk,  he  has  concluded  to  carry  out 
the  story  in  another  volume ;  and  Providence  permitting, 
you  shall  not  wait  long  for  its  completion. 


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